Don't Judge a Girl by Her Past Cover
by On a Mission to Save the World
Summary: After her father's death, Cammie Morgan ran away from the Gallagher Academy in hopes of finding out what really happened to him. Because she's constantly switching covers, it's difficult to pinpoint her location. Years later, Zach Goode is given a mission to find her, but the Circle of Cavan is determined to get to her first. Will Zach be able to reach Cammie before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**CAMMIE, Age 12**

**3 hours after the bell signals the end of Cammie's first day at the Gallagher Academy…**

"Cammie," my mom said, her tone quickly changing from playful to serious. My face fell a little at the sound of her no-nonsense voice. I recognized this voice. I've heard it multiple times before, one of which being about whether or not I'd attend the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, the school that my mom is currently working at as the headmistress. That conversation quickly turned into a debate as my mom tried to convince me not to enroll while I made a counterargument to explain why I _should _enroll. Eventually, she gave in, but not before making me promise not to get discouraged by its difficulty level.

We were just enjoying a nice family dinner in my mom's office at the Gallagher Academy when all of a sudden, my mom decided to make a grave announcement. I wasn't sure why she waited to tell me this. I've been here since my first day of school ended, which was just a few hours ago. I was anxious to tell her all about the people I'd met, the classes I'd sat through, the halls I'd explored. Well, not about _all _the halls I'd explored.

Allow me to explain. All around the mansion, I discovered all kinds of secret passageways hidden within the walls of this school. By the looks of the dusty corridors and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, I guessed that no one had stumbled upon those hidden halls in a long time, which made me want to keep them to myself. Having my own personal hiding places was oddly appealing to me at the time.

Now, my mom obviously had something that she wanted to share with me. I let my mind wonder what that something was until she continued in her serious voice, "There's something that I need to tell you, but I need you to act mature about this… new development."

I snorted, "Mom, I'm almost 13 years old. I'm pretty sure I'm mature enough to handle whatever you want to tell me."

She didn't smile at the hint of humor in my voice. Not even a little. She simply continued talking, almost as if I hadn't said a word, "Do you remember the mission your father was sent on about 6 months ago?"

I nodded my head. Of course I remembered. Whenever my dad left on a mission, I would throw a fit and beg him to stay home, to stay _safe _with me and my mom. That never stopped him from taking off after reassuring me that he'd be alright, giving my mom a quick goodbye kiss, which I always looked away from, and wishing us both farewell.

At the mention of my dad on his latest mission, I automatically imagined the worst possible scenario I could come up with that could've occurred while he was doing his job, "Is he okay? Did he get caught? What happened to him?" I was starting to get impatient. Why didn't my mom bring up anything about my dad's whereabouts earlier?

She sighed and muttered, "I wish," before resuming her train of thought, "It's worse than that. Today, I got a phone call from the CIA Director while you were in class. He said… he said that‒" My mom choked back a sob. I paled, suddenly feeling very uneasy.

"What did he say?" I questioned hesitantly, my voice a lot quieter than it was a few seconds ago. I was almost too afraid to confirm what my mom must be trying to say to me.

My mom sucked in a deep breath and spoke with a little more conviction, "He said that your dad was recently proclaimed KIA."

I quickly leaned back in my seat, having difficulty processing this new bit of information. He can't possibly be dead. My dad was probably the greatest spy the CIA had ever seen. He's succeeded on more missions than any other agent in the history of the CIA, and he was still at the beginning of his career. He couldn't just _die._

From the look on my mom's face, I could tell that she's having trouble digesting the thought of him being dead, too. I knew then that she wouldn't lie about something like this. I wish she'd lied. It'd be easier to deal with.

My mom cleared her throat. I could tell that she was trying to hold back more tears, and that the minute I left the room, she'd let the tears fall. It was unnerving. I've never seen my mom so close to tears before.

"Cammie," she murmured cautiously, "Do you want to help me plan the funeral?"

I shook my head and got up from my seat. I no longer had much of an appetite, and my mom's cooking wasn't exactly helping. I needed some alone time to think through this‒as my mom described it‒"new development."

She nodded understandingly and got up from her seat as well to walk me to the door. Glancing at me, she asked if I'd be alright. After a minute of pondering my answer, I simply nodded and left my mom to mourn the loss of my dad alone. Apparently, we both were in desperate need of some alone time.

As I walked down the hall toward the nearest secret passageway I had recently discovered, I imagined all the distractions my mom would come up with to keep her mind on tasks at hand and away from the death of her husband, planning the funeral being one of them. That's how my mom typically got over things‒by finding things to keep her busy.

I, on the other hand, prefer to reflect on the situation and plan a course of action to follow it. Sitting around with distractions swarming me doesn't really help me keep my mind off of an unpleasant topic.

"Cammie, there you are!" I heard from across the nearly empty corridor. I looked up to see none other than Tina Walters, the unofficial school gossip queen, or at least, in the seventh grade. I barely knew the girl, but already I could tell that she has the tendency to talk a lot, usually about things that people could care less about. Thank goodness I only had one class with her, which is Culture and Assimilation.

I silently groaned. The _last _thing I wanted to do right now was listen as Tina spouted more gossip. I'm pretty sure that at least _half _of the things she said were false. Seriously, I wonder where she gets all of her "facts" from. Maybe her mom works for a big gossip magazine or something. I wouldn't know since all she likes to talk about is what's going on in other people's lives. She never volunteered information about herself, or at least, during all the time that I've known her, which isn't really that long. I'm going to guess that that's probably why she seems so unwilling to tell me about herself, but who knows?

"Hi Tina, how has your day been?" I asked politely. We learned about basic manners today in our Culture and Assimilation class, so I decided that I might as well use this new knowledge. Madame Dabney, the teacher for our class, would be proud, I'm sure.

Tina smiled at me, obviously realizing what I was practicing. "My day's been fantastic! Thanks for asking," she winked at that remark as a signal that she was clearly onto me. I laughed, but it sounded forced. I cleared my throat, hoping that Tina wouldn't notice a difference between how I acted earlier and how I'm acting now.

To my relief, she carried on talking without saying a word about how I'd been acting since she caught me in the hall, "So Cammie, did you hear about how Dr. Fibs accidentally set a classroom desk on _fire _last period, or that Professor Buckingham is considering retirement soon? How about the fact that Mr. Moskowitz secretly enjoys going swimming in his free time, or that Mr. Smith gets plastic surgery after every school year so that he can look like a totally new person? Ooh, did you know that the headmistress recently got a phone call from the CIA Director? I'm not sure what that was all about‒"

I shook my head at Tina, hoping to end our chat as soon as possible so that I could go saunter off to a secret passageway, and lied, "No, I didn't know about all of that, but I guess I'm not really that surprised." If all those things she said were even true, that is. How'd she even know about my mom's phone conversation with the CIA Director?

She smiled, "I'm pretty sure they're right. My mom writes a gossip column in a major metropolitan newspaper that I get a lot of my information from." Wow, my guess wasn't too far from the actual truth.

"That's really cool," I told her while I racked my brain for an excuse to leave this conversation that wouldn't sound rude.

At that moment, one of my roommates, and now my savior, walked over to us and said, "Cammie, where have you been? You were supposed to help me unpack the rest of my stuff!" I was relieved for the chance to escape. Bex Baxter, the roommate of mine that just saved me from Tina's endless gossip comments, knew how to lie with ease. Her real name is actually Rebecca, but I wouldn't call her that if I were you. She absolutely _hates _being called that name.

I smiled sheepishly, trying to play along, "Sorry, Bex. I totally forgot about that. Do you still have things that need to be unpacked? I can help you now."

Her immediate response was, "Of course I do! I came from London, and there's a bunch of stuff that I haven't even touched yet since I got to this school." Another thing you should know about Bex is that she's British and that both of her parents work for the MI6. It's a pretty big deal.

"Oh, that's too bad," Tina responded. "Cammie and I were just getting into a really interesting conversation about the latest gossip and how‒"

Bex suddenly grabbed one of my arms and hauled me away from Tina, saying, "Sorry Tina, we can't talk long. I've got _a lot _of unpacking to do!" With that, we were racing down the halls toward the room we shared with another girl that was super shy, but also super smart. Her preferred name's Liz Sutton, but most of the teachers call her by her given name, Elizabeth, which may irritate her a little, but not nearly as much as when teachers call Bex by Rebecca. I shuddered at the thought of someone making that mistake.

Bex reached for the doorknob that led to our shared room and quickly twisted it open. I flew into the room before Bex, hoping to put some more distance between Tina and I, if possible. It's not that Tina is a bad person. It's just that I get strangely uncomfortable around her. Maybe I'm not the only one.

Liz greeted us as we walked passed her without looking up from her computer screen. I collapsed on my bed and sighed contentedly. Bex and Liz, who were sitting on their own beds, laughed at the sight of me. I turned to smile at Bex, "Thanks for rescuing me back there. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't showed up to drag me away from Tina."

Bex waved my thanks away and simply said, "It was nothing."

Peaked with a sense of curiosity, Liz suddenly questioned, "What happened with Tina?" I wasn't surprised that she was wondering about what just occurred a few minutes ago. If I were her, I'd like to find out what was going on, too.

I saw Bex roll her eyes from her bed before laying flat on her back and giving a brief description of what just took place a few halls away from our dorm. Liz listened carefully to everything Bex had to say as I gradually zoned out, my eyes shutting and my mind drifting to old memories of me and my dad that were painful to revisit, but not unbearable.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep while thinking about my dad because when I opened my eyes again, a few rays of light shone through the window, despite the curtains Liz had hung up the other day, to signal that it was early morning. I stood up quietly and glanced down at what I was wearing. From the rumpled uniform I was currently dressed in, I could tell that I had gone to bed in what I was wearing to school yesterday.

This is just great. That was the only uniform I had for the Gallagher Academy. I sighed and tried to smooth down my hair so it was less tangled. After realizing that that wasn't an effective way of untangling my hair, I gave up and looked around the room until my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room.

I ran through the events of my first day of school and suddenly remembered the depressing news my mom had delivered to me. I quickly sat back down on the edge of my bed, thoughts of my dad filling my mind once again

Even though it was still 1:15 in the morning, I didn't want to go back to sleep. It'd be too hard to fall asleep again after the realization that my dad was gone, and I had absolutely no idea how he died or what happened while he was on the mission that led to his death.

Then a thought suddenly occurred to me. Why don't I go and find out about my dad's death? What's stopping me from leaving right this very moment?

Filled with a new purpose, I swiftly moved around the room, trying to pack a few necessary supplies that I'd need for my trip to find answers that I deserved to know. I remained as quick and quiet as possible as I found things that would undoubtedly be useful to me on my little mission, stuff like a light backpack, a handful of snacks and drinks, a flashlight with extra batteries, a stack of extra clothing, a dozen daggers, a box of matches, a couple of handguns, a load of cash, and an advanced map with an accompanying compass. I'd much rather bring a GPS device, but those could easily be tracked, and I didn't want anyone to find me until after I had my answers.

With my backpack slung over my shoulders, I quietly left the room, but not before scribbling a short note to Bex and Liz about where I was going and what I'd be doing. They'd find it taped to my bedpost when they woke up.

I stuck to the shadows as much as possible and avoided all of the security cameras, which I knew were placed in various corners of the mansion. It was almost too easy to get to the secret passageway that I knew led directly outside the Gallagher Academy. Sometimes, wandering the halls aimlessly and uncovering secret passageways carefully placed around the large building came in handy.

I glanced back once at the Gallagher Academy that I was leaving for‒well, hopefully not _too_ long of a time‒before walking through the hidden exit and sealing it behind me with a soft _thud _that echoed in the early day.

* * *

**Hey there FanFiction readers! This is the first chapter of my first FanFiction, and I'm so glad to finally have it posted! Please give me some feedback, even if it's negative. Just don't judge too harshly because it is my first FanFiction. Thanks so much for giving this FanFiction a chance!**

**-Sky**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**ZACH, Age 22**

**10 years after Cammie runs away to find answers about her father's death…**

"You called?" I said calmly with a smirk plastered on my face as I casually strolled into the CIA Director's office an hour later than he'd called for. I assumed that he had another mission to send me on, so I decided to prepare myself by getting a head start on packing, which caused me to arrive _a little _late. But at least I'm here now.

"You're late," the CIA Director grumbled as I made myself at home by sitting in the chair resting right in front of him, leaning back slightly, and placing my feet up on top of his large expensive-looking desk. I rolled my eyes at his statement. As if I didn't already know that.

"Yes, and I also make ladies want to faint just by walking into a room. Now, are we done talking facts now?" I asked with another smirk, anxious to hear about my next mission, or at least, something worth arriving late for.

The CIA Director sighed, obviously frustrated with my naturally cocky demeanor. It's not something that can be turned off with the flick of a switch, though I'm sure that the CIA Director would do almost anything to find out how he could locate such a switch. "Zachary, you can't just arrive late to a meeting at the CIA headquarters without notifying‒"

I waved him off and replied, "I'm sorry, sir. Technically, it wasn't even really my fault for arriving late. You see, what happened was that there was this emergency at‒"

The CIA Director cut me off with the shake of his head, "I don't have time to listen to you make up excuses. I've got a mission for you."

I resisted the urge to smirk triumphantly as he continued, "About 10 years ago, there was a young girl attending the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women that went missing right after her first day of school. From various items found missing in her dorm, it has been concluded that she decided to pack a few things into a backpack and leave the mansion. How she managed to escape the Gallagher Academy's high-quality security system is a mystery, but now she's on the run, and the CIA is hoping that you'll be able to find her."

I snorted, "So you decided to wait 10 years before sending an agent on a mission to track her? What a smart plan." I applauded the CIA Director for his brilliance, or maybe I should say _lack _of brilliance.

Most people would be deathly afraid to insult him for fear of losing their jobs, but I knew that I was one of the highest-ranking CIA agents as of today so there's no way the CIA Director would fire me, despite the many times I may irritate him.

The CIA Director shifted in his seat a little, clearly uncomfortable by my comment. "Well," he said after a minute, "I've already sent multiple agents on missions to locate this girl over the past 10 years, but for some unknown reason they all… have gone MIA."

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. "All the agents that have gone on this mission are now _missing?" _I questioned, unable to believe my ears. This girl had attended _one _day of school at the Gallagher Academy before running away. Now, I've heard a little about their advanced curriculum, but there's no way that she'd be able to take down well-trained CIA agents after just a day of spy training, unless she was some kind of prodigy. I highly doubted that.

In response to my disbelieving remark, the CIA Director nodded grimly and said, "Unfortunately, yes. After thorough investigation into this matter, the girl has been eliminated from the now vacant list of possible suspects, mostly due to lack of concrete evidence. Because she's managed to get so well off the grid, we can assume that she wouldn't want to leave any bodies behind that could give us a hint as to where her location is, and even if she _did _capture the agents the CIA sent after her, there'd be no place for her to… dispose of their bodies."

I shook my head, trying to take all of this information in at once. I'd never heard about a mission quite like this one before, so it was very difficult for me to swallow this all down. "So basically, there's a teenage girl from the Gallagher Academy on the loose, no one knows where she is or how to find her, everyone that's tried to find her have mysteriously disappeared, the list of suspects that could be responsible for their disappearances is blank, and now, you expect me to find her?" I clarified simply.

"Actually," the CIA Director corrected, "She's no longer a teenage girl. At present, she's 22 years old, just like you are. There _should_ be a way to find her and bring her back, but that'll depend on how you do on your mission. Other than those minor details, you've basically summarized your mission objective."

I sighed, "Let me take a look at the mission file." The CIA Director handed them over wordlessly, and I quickly skimmed through them. There wasn't that much to read.

"What's this for?" I wondered aloud when I happened upon a photo of a beautiful woman with startlingly bright eyes that weren't settled on one eye color and long, light brown hair that fell passed her shoulders. I don't think I'd ever seen a more beautiful woman in my life.

It seemed like she was trying to downplay her looks in the picture, but it wasn't working in her favor. She still looked undeniably beautiful, and I doubted that she realized just how beautiful she was.

My facial expression must have given away what I was thinking because the CIA Director chose that moment to chuckle at me before replying, "That right there, Zachary, is a computer-generated photo of what the missing girl should look like today that is based off of a photo taken by her mother 10 years ago, shortly before the girl ran away. Hopefully, it'll be useful to you while you're trying to figure out where she is, though I wouldn't count on it if I were you. The only way she'd be able to keep out of our sight for so long would be by changing covers often, which means that she could look like any ordinary girl."

Instead of replying with my usual confidence, my voice wavered slightly, "What's her name?"

I had to know her name. I had to figure out who she was. It's necessary for the mission. That's what I kept silently chanting to myself, even though I knew it was lie. Lying to other people was a thousand times easier than trying to lie to myself.

The CIA Director looked at me oddly, as if he was pondering why I'd need to know her name. Names were pretty pointless on tracking missions like this one. If this girl was smart, she wouldn't call herself by her actual name because that'd make it easier for someone to search for her. But he didn't understand. I _needed_ to match her face to a name, any name, or else I'd go insane trying to solve the mystery this girl brought.

Reluctantly, the CIA Director answered, "Her name is Cameron Morgan, but she was nicknamed Cammie by her family, friends, and peers." So that's her name. I glanced back down at the photo in my hand, finding that the nickname Cammie suited her well.

Then I realized something, "Wait, did you say her name is Cammie _Morgan?" _

The CIA Director shook his head, "No, I said that her name is _Cameron _Morgan, but she was nicknamed‒"

"Okay, I understood that part. Just one more question before I go." The CIA Director signaled with his hand for me to continue. "Is she somehow related to Matthew Morgan, one of the greatest spies to ever exist?"

For some reason, the CIA Director seemed to find my question amusing. He smiled sadly at me as he told me what he should've told me earlier, "She's his only daughter."

* * *

I hopped into my shiny, red sports car, trying to ignore the many stares I was presently receiving from women and the glares of envious men that I didn't bother acknowledging as I pulled out of the parking lot of the CIA headquarters.

Normally, I'd turn towards the admiring women and throw them a suggestive wink or a smirk, causing the jealous men to hate me even more, but right now, I had only one thing on my mind. Well, more like one _destination. _That destination was none other than the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women.

It seemed like a good place to start searching for Cammie. After all, it was the same place that she was last seen at and that she ran away from. There's bound to be something helpful there that's worth taking note of.

To keep my mind distracted from the picture of Cammie that, at the moment, rested on the passenger seat with the mission file, I rolled down the windows of the front half of my sports car to let the warm breeze in and flipped on the car stereo. When I heard a horrible band group performing some kind of rock and roll song, I immediately switched to a different radio station without even needing to glance at the stereo. I switched the radio station exactly 6 more times before I finally settled on a pop station that wasn't too loud and upbeat, but also wasn't too soft and melodic for my taste.

As the music played in the background, I began to relax more into the soft leather seat of my sports car. The rhythm of the radio songs calmed my nerves and helped me concentrate better on my driving. The Gallagher Academy, which was located in a small town called Roseville, wasn't that far from the CIA headquarters in Langley. If I continued at the reckless speed I've been driving at, I'd be there in no time. I couldn't wait.

Then I remembered that I was currently on a life-threatening mission that agents that have gone before me have seemingly vanished from, determined to find a girl that was determined to not be found. To top it all off, the girl I was trying to find was Matthew Morgan's daughter, which means that she must be an excellent spy. This'll certainly be _loads_ of fun.

As I was making a sharp right turn, my cell phone chose that moment to ring loudly in my pocket, nearly causing me to mow down a couple of unsuspecting road signs. I groaned lightly as I reached for my pocket to pull the cell phone out and press it tightly to my ear, not even bothering to check the Caller ID, "Hello?"

"Zach!" I heard my ex-girlfriend, Tina Walters, exclaim. I internally groaned at the sound of her obnoxious voice and tried to not almost run down any other road signs, "Where have you been all day? I thought you were going to take me out to lunch today."

"Well, you obviously thought wrong," I told her firmly, not having the time or the energy to deal with her at the moment. "Tina, listen carefully now. I'm only going to say this once. We've been over for almost a month now. Don't you think you should move on already?"

There was a moment of silence over the phone, which almost never happened with me and Tina. During every second of silence when I was going out with her, Tina would always come up with a way to fill in the lapse in conversation. That's part of the reason why I dated her. She was pretty and tall, though she caked her face with pounds of eye-catching makeup and wore sky high heels. She was funny and conversational, though she often went on and on for hours, talking about the latest gossip she heard from her "sources." She was certainly extraordinary, though sometimes I wondered if she came from another planet by the ridiculous way she acted around me. In short, there weren't that many reasons for me to date her.

Now that I think about it, why _did _I ever go out with Tina? She's all masks and rumors. I wouldn't be able to figure out who she really was under all those masks and rumors she buries herself beneath, even if I tried. Rarely did I ever see her without multiple beauty products applied. I know, shocking right?

I was about to insert an apology to Tina because I was afraid that I'd been too harsh in my words when I heard her finally say, "Fine, _Zachary. _Maybe I will." Her sudden change in tone astonished me. She said my name like it was a curse to all of mankind.

"Tina," I said a little more gently this time, "It's not that I have something against you or anything. I've just got‒"

Tina interrupted me coldly while I was trying to explain, "What's her name?" Well, that came from out of the blue.

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly. Could you‒" I was cut off _again _by her as she was trying to get an answer out of me, "I just said, 'What's her name?' Now, you better answer me!" Tina must be running out of patience by now because of my confusion.

I still wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. Could she already know about my mission to locate Cammie? I suppose that it's possible. She is the biggest gossip girl I've ever met. Maybe some of her "sources" worked within the CIA and had high clearance levels that gave them access to the latest CIA information.

I deemed it safe to assume that she was referring to the mission I just received earlier in the day, even though I knew nothing for sure. "Her name's Cammie," I answered for her.

In a barely audible voice, Tina hissed under her breath, "Is it Cammie _Morgan?" _Trying not to upset her even more, I calmly confirmed that. She scoffed, "I wouldn't bother. She's been missing for _years_ now. For all we know, she could be _dead."_

"That's why _I'm_ here to track her down and return her home," I said with confidence. There was no way I was letting the CIA Director down on a mission, _especially _this one. He's already given so many other agents the chance to prove themselves through this mission, but they all apparently failed. I won't turn out like those failures once this mission is over.

"Good luck with that. I hope you enjoy wasting your time because that's what you'll be doing until you miraculously come across her," she replied, not sounding sincere at all. With that, she ended the call.

I grinned in relief once she hung up, glad to have _that _strange conversation over with. Hopefully, Tina would leave me alone now and stop calling all of the time to remind me of "promises" I'd made to her. If not, well, at least I'll be traveling to different parts of the world on a mission and staying away from Tina for a while.

Because of the conversation I just took part in, I suddenly turned desperate to get to the Gallagher Academy in Roseville as soon as possible. This sudden desperation might've led to a certain red sports car driver breaking a few laws and speed limits because of the hurry they were in to arrive at a certain spy school for young girls.

It was an awesome car ride, and I don't regret a single second of it. None of the cops on the highway caught me speeding way passed the lawful limit. That just shows you how great the police outside of Roseville were.

I can't say that I'm surprised. A lot of small towns like Roseville usually don't get much criminal trouble. But when they do, their police force isn't nearly as prepared as it should be. I, however, am not from a small town, and the police officers here didn't scare me. They'd never even be able to catch up to me.

Due to my hasty, yet still amazing, driving skills, I reached Roseville a lot quicker than I would have if I'd stuck to the law. I almost missed the exit that led directly to the small town and had to make a u-turn because the sign was so small compared to the other signs I'd seen on the highway, but at the last second, I steered straight toward it and almost hit another car making its way toward the same exit as I was.

I barely registered my surroundings as I gradually got closer to the destination I've had in mind since I officially started this mission. The driver I nearly ran over a moment ago honked in annoyance at me, but I just ignored it as I started to slow down to a more normal pace as the city of Roseville came into view.

This was only my second time coming to Roseville, but I still found it to be as awe-inspiring as the last time, when I came to the Gallagher Academy about 6 years ago with a few other students for an exchange with the Blackthorne Institute, the school I graduated from only about 4 years ago. It's shocking how time seems to have flown by since then.

Roseville was nothing like any other city I'd been to before. Its goals weren't to draw attention or catch residents' eyes, but it still had its own way of holding gazes, including mine. There was nothing particularly grand about Roseville that I liked, yet I couldn't seem to stop staring at the little town in wonder as I made my way toward what I expected was the direction of the Gallagher Academy. I did like the little gazebo near the heart of the town though. I could easily imagine myself taking a girl out on a date there.

"Here goes nothing," I quietly muttered to myself as I finally spotted the Gallagher Academy a few miles ahead of me. In my mind, I silently planned a course of action to take.

* * *

**Hi everyone! Wow, not much time has passed since I posted the first chapter, but already I'm getting reviews, followers, and favorites! This is amazing! Sorry about the large time skip, but I didn't want to bore you guys too much with Cammie's life as a runaway. I guess that makes the first chapter kind of like a prologue or whatever it's called. I plan on alternating perspectives between Zach and Cammie throughout the rest of the story. What do you think?**

**In response to a couple of reviews, I'd like to say to Crazy-for-Goode that yes, Cammie _will _find Zach... eventually. Actually, Zach will be the one to find her. As for what really happened to her dad, you'll have to wait and see! Now, about the handguns... I don't know what to tell you, Irish Gallagher Girl. Let's just say that Cammie stole them from some clueless seniors! How's that? :D**

**-Sky**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**CAMMIE as MELISSA, Age 22**

**8 hours after Zach meets with the CIA Director to discuss his recently assigned mission…**

"Melissa, this is the fourth time this week that you've showed up late for work. What's the deal?" my boss asked me irritably as I rushed passed him, gave him a quick apology for not arriving on time, and headed into the large bookstore that I was currently employed to, intending on beginning my shift right away since I should've been here about half an hour ago. Plus, I didn't feel like arguing with Mr. Barker, my boss, at the moment.

Honestly, I hadn't meant to start my shift so late. I actually would've been on time for work today if I hadn't noticed a black vehicle tailing me on the street my apartment building rests on. To an ordinary person, it would've simply been considered a coincidence to see a car make the same exact turns as another car, especially in a town as small as Good Hope, with a population of less than 500. But if there's one thing that I'm definitely not, it's ordinary.

Sure, I may be pretending to be an ordinary girl named Melissa List that has long blonde hair, bright green eyes with giant pink glasses, pale skin, and a love for books of all genres, but this is all part of my cover. I can't have people thinking that I'm a mostly self-trained spy named Cammie Morgan.

For the record, this morning was the fourth time this week that a vehicle had tried to follow me to Book-A-Roo, the bookstore in Good Hope that I've been working at for almost a month now, which is the reason why I kept arriving late for work.

In the past 10 years of my life, I've witnessed a lot of cars attempt to tail me. The still increasing number of times a situation similar to the one I'd encountered this morning was beginning to anger me, and I've had enough tails to last me a lifetime. I never had problems losing any of my tails before, but that didn't mean that I was alright with them. I just wished that there was a way for me to react to the tailing cars without risking my life in the process.

At first, I assumed that all of the tailing cars were driven by CIA agents that were part of a mission to bring me safely back to the Gallagher Academy, back to the family and friends that I'd left behind so abruptly. It made sense to me that my mom would want to focus on organizing multiple search groups immediately after discovering that I was no longer where I should've been at the Gallagher Academy, but I hadn't expected them to find me so soon after my nearly impossible escape.

Then I soon realized that my mom wouldn't have asked for CIA agents to follow me around once they discovered my exact location. She would've wanted them to get me to give up the idea of running away and escort me back to the school grounds, where she would've been waiting expectantly for my reappearance. Unless, of course, she was part of a search party as well, which wouldn't have shocked me at all.

My mom has always been protective of me, even before my dad was killed on a mission. I was the only daughter she ever had, and when my dad was away on a mission, the only family she had with her. Sure, there's always Aunt Abby to think of, but she's pretty unpredictable. Sometimes, she'll drop by the Gallagher Academy for a quick visit, but my mom and I never know when her visits will be unless she decides to call ahead of time, which rarely ever happens. But then again, with Aunt Abby, you almost never know what's going to happen.

Since I knew for a fact that the CIA hadn't figured out where I was, I became ecstatic and fearful at the same time. I was ecstatic because I'd managed to escape the searching eyes of the CIA for a time, but I was also fearful because I hadn't managed to escape the searching eyes of possibly dangerous strangers with unknown motives for following me.

I'm not sure how they found me so easily, who they even were, or what they looked like behind all of those darkly tinted windows, but I do know how to lose them in public areas and that it was probably essential to my survival that I avoid their line of sight. That's one of my many specialties, disappearing in a crowd. They don't call me the Chameleon for nothing.

I headed straight for the back storage room, where Mr. Barker told me and the rest of the employees yesterday that new books to be shelved would be delivered. I had to step over a group of rattlesnakes and around some barrels to get there. Of course, all of the decorations at Book-A-Roo were just props, but they still looked realistic.

From the name of the bookstore, anyone could tell pretty easily that Book-A-Roo has a Wild Western theme to it. Mr. Barker loved anything that had to do with the Wild West, especially cowboys. Sometimes, he'd dress up as a cowboy and come to work just for the fun of it. In general, he was an easygoing boss, better than most of the bosses that I've had in the past. He was quick to forgive most of the time, and he had a great sense of humor. I think he was starting to get frustrated with me now though, since my attendance hasn't been so perfect lately.

But it didn't really matter what he thought of me. I'd be gone eventually, and then he'd never have to see me again.

When I reached the back storage room, Chase Porter, one of my co-workers at Book-A-Roo, was already back there. Chase and I were the only two people that had the morning shift, since there typically wasn't a lot of business at this time of day. I didn't mind though. He was nice company. We actually had a lot in common. That is, he and my cover had a lot in common.

He couldn't see me yet because his back was turned toward me so I called out, "Hey Chase! So how's the back storage room looking?"

Startled, he nearly dropped the large box of books he was carrying, but I reached his side fast enough to save us both time from having to pick up a bunch of fallen books. Chase was so tall and lean that he had to look down at me to meet my gaze with a grin and say, "Oh, hi Melissa! I was wondering when you'd show up for work today. The storage room's a complete mess, as you can see. The delivery guys that walked in with the books apparently never learned how to set boxes down in neat rows." With a free hand, he gestured around the back storage room as he spoke to add emphasis to his words.

I rolled my eyes at Chase. He was such a perfectionist sometimes. As a bookstore employee, being a perfectionist came in handy. As a conversation starter, it was both annoying and amusing, but I didn't mind that much‒most of the time. "Not everyone can arrange boxes in a row that's straight enough to satisfy you," I told him pointedly.

He turned away and scoffed, "Well, at least they could have placed the boxes in alphabetical order. That's not so hard to do. It'd save us a lot of time, too." As he spoke, he continued to pick up boxes, look around the room, and then put them back down on the ground where he thought they belonged. I felt like he was intentionally avoiding eye contact with me, but that seemed ridiculous. What reason would Chase have to avoid eye contact with me anyways?

"That's part of _our _job, not theirs. They're just supposed to bring the boxes of books into the bookstore. Now let's just start opening these boxes and shelving the books in the right places," I said as I reached for the nearest box.

When he didn't protest or say that they needed to be organized a certain way _before_ they could be shelved, I looked up to meet his light blue eyes with concern. Even though I was wearing a pair of green contacts, I was pretty sure that he could see the worried look I was shooting him with my eyes.

Chase _always _felt the need to organize things. He took his job at Book-A-Roo very seriously, and I think Mr. Barker favored him above the rest of the employees because of how focused he was at the bookstore. When there weren't many customers milling around the bookstore, looking for intriguing books to buy, he'd stride from shelf to shelf just to make sure that all of the books were in the right order. Then when he found a book that was out of order, even if it was only about 3 books away from the right place, he'd throw a rant about how incapable people were of returning books back to the exact place they found them.

Sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention to me, I'd choose a random bookshelf and switch a couple of books on it just to irritate him. I couldn't help it. His reaction was just so funny. The best part is that he never catches me in the act.

"Chase, are you okay?" I asked him, unsure how to react to his unusual silence.

He roughly cleared his throat and let out a forced laugh before looking away from my gaze again and replying, "Sorry, I just got distracted for a second. Uh, go ahead and start shelving books. I'll just be back here sorting the rest of the boxes."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously Chase? How stupid do you think I am?"

It was obvious that he was lying to me from the way his pupils dilated and his pulse increased slightly as he answered. I didn't even need to be a spy to tell that he was lying, and sitting through multiple Covert Operations classes at the Gallagher Academy to learn about detecting lies wasn't necessary for me. It's a basic ability that all spies needed to learn eventually to survive, and I was quick to figure that out.

Sighing in defeat, Chase reluctantly met my gaze again and slowly said, "Alright, you caught me. It's just that, well, there's something that I've wanted to ask you for a while now. I know that we haven't really known each other for a long time, but I feel like‒" He paused, lost in thought for a moment.

"I feel like I can tell you anything. I feel like I've known you my whole life, and in the past few weeks, working with you‒well, those were probably the best weeks of my life. You're adorable, funny, and you seem to understand me more than anyone else in the world. So I was wondering," he gulped nervously and ran a hand through his curly brown hair before continuing, "Will you go on a date with me?"

I stood before Chase, knocked speechless. I wasn't sure what to say. Breaking his heart wasn't something that I really wanted to do, since he was one of the few friends that I had in Good Hope, but agreeing to go out with him and causing him to get the wrong idea didn't sound so appealing either.

Then I realized that I was supposed to be Melissa, not Cammie, and that keeping my cover was more important than expressing my feelings. Besides, I'll be gone sooner or later, and then he'll be forced to move on.

I squealed loudly with fake enthusiasm and jumped up to wrap my arms around his neck, "Yes! Of course, I'll go out with you!" There was no question about it. Melissa would've wanted to date Chase, and I was playing the part of Melissa right now.

Chase was frozen in shock for a moment, obviously not anticipating my strong reaction. Gradually, he wrapped his strong arms around my waist to pull me closer to him and gently nuzzled my neck. His brown curls, which were tickling my face, felt amazingly soft against my skin.

"You smell _so _good right now," he mumbled against my neck. I laughed at him before hesitantly pulling away. The Chase I knew was officially back.

* * *

"So I guess I'll pick you up at 6:00 tonight?" Chase asked as we were walking out of the bookstore at the end of our shift. I nodded and beamed at him to show him how excited I was for this date, not even needing to fake my excitement to convince him.

Chase grinned at the sight of my smile and said, "Great! I'll see you later then." With that, we parted ways. He headed off in the direction of his car while I hurried to mine. Because I had a lot of planning to do, and there was a stop that I needed to make before I arrived at my apartment to prepare for my date with Chase, I chose to use my emergency engine to save me some time. In my mind, I made a mental note to thank my friend, Renee Park, later for installing such an awesome engine into my plain white car.

After I left the Gallagher Academy, the friends I've gained have accumulated over the past few years. I don't have many friends outside of the Gallagher Academy, but the ones that I do have, I completely trust. Trust is a hard thing to earn and give, but I've managed to figure out how to pick friends that I could trust wholeheartedly.

One of my close friends, Spencer Pierce, has been keeping me up to date on the latest CIA information since he knows a bunch of agents with high clearance levels in the CIA that don't mind passing on a few facts straight from the CIA headquarters. He's a really useful guy to know. Without him, I probably wouldn't have discovered my seemingly natural ability to blend in with my surroundings, like a chameleon.

As I tactfully scanned the area for our designated dead letter drop in Good Hope, I kept an eye out for bystanders that would be able to see me if I checked for anything new in our dead letter drop right now. The last thing I wanted was for someone standing nearby to discover the place where Spencer and I exchanged confidential messages, sometimes life-threatening ones that weren't meant for just any ordinary pair of eyes.

I wondered where Spencer was right now. He never stayed in the same city I was in because he was afraid that we'd draw more attention to ourselves by traveling together wherever we went, and the _last _thing a spy like me wants is to be noticed. Even though I didn't like how we had to separate all of the time, I knew that he was right. Better safe than sorry.

When I finally reached our dead letter drop, I stopped my white car on the side of the narrow road and stepped out, doing a quick sweep of my surroundings with my eyes before declaring that the coast was clear. I couldn't see anyone less than 30 feet away from me, which was a good sign. That meant that no one was close enough to see what I was doing in this rundown part of town.

Just to be safe though, I lifted my finger to the bridge of my nose, as if to keep my big pink glasses from slipping any further, but then _accidentally _caused it to topple off my face.

I sighed exasperatedly and slowly bent down with an outreaching hand to pick it up while my other hand swiftly slipped between a thin crack in the road, lifted up a piece of pavement, and searched for anything underneath it. When my hand touched a crumpled piece of paper, I grasped it tightly and quickly pulled my hand back.

After I put on a show of checking my glasses for any damage done to it, I discreetly transferred the piece of paper to a pocket in my blue jeans and stood up straight. My gaze moved around the nearly deserted area, as if I was expecting to find something or someone waiting around here for my arrival.

Then, after a minute of aimlessly searching, I pretended to give up and sigh dejectedly as I climbed back into my white car. Even though I was dying to know what was written on the paper from Spencer, I'd wait until I got back to my apartment before reading through it. I didn't want to get in any more danger than I already was in.

* * *

**Hello everyone! Thank you guys so much for the continued support. You have no idea how much your support means to me. The followers, favorites, and reviews just keep coming, and it makes me feel so amazing! **

**Since no one that I'm aware of dislikes the alternating perspectives between Cammie and Zach, I'm going to continue that, which means next chapter will have Zach!**

**In response to a few reviews I saw, I want to say to cheeky-monkey-hehehe that I didn't try to hook people after just 2 chapters, but from all the views I've been getting, I can see that people seem to love my story so far, and I'm thrilled! I didn't think that readers would be that interested in my story, but I guess I was wrong! Also, maybe I will have Cammie rid Zach of some of his cockiness, GreyEyes217. It's a good idea, but I can't start working on that until they meet in person! I'm anxious to write about their meeting, but I don't want to rush to it, so please be patient with me! It's coming!**

**-Sky**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**ZACH, Age 22**

**2 minutes after Zach arrives in Roseville and catches sight of the Gallagher Academy…**

"Please state your full name and business," a guard with a mouthful of bubblegum demanded me as I neared the front gates of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. He acted cool and collected in front of me, though I could sense an undercurrent of curiosity running through him at my arrival. From the way he spoke, I doubted that many people came by the Gallagher Academy for a visit.

I smirked and pulled out my CIA identification badge from a pocket in my jacket as I spoke, "My name's Zachary Goode. I'm a high-ranking CIA agent that's currently on a mission to locate a girl named Cameron Morgan."

The guard winced slightly at the sound of her name, almost unnoticeably, but I caught sight of the little movement and, despite his attempt to conceal a wince, was determined to push on, "According to my mission file from the CIA Director, I concluded that she was a former student at the Gallagher Academy, became a runaway _very _shortly after getting enrolled with the Gallagher Academy, and more than likely would've turned into a naturally talented spy like her father, Matthew Morgan, so I was planning on having a talk with‒"

"You're talking about her like she's already dead," the guard chewing bubblegum cut in nervously, as if he was afraid to accept that Cammie was a goner.

I silently reviewed the words in my mind, and I realized that I _had _sounded a little like I was talking about a dead person. I was about to apologize when the guard interrupted me for the second time with a sigh and a suggestion, "I don't think that'd be wise, to go and ask about her at the Gallagher Academy."

I opened my mouth to protest, hoping to explain how much I needed to speak to someone that knew what Cammie was like before she disappeared, without leaving a trace behind, but he just shook his head at me and said, "Talking about her brings back too many… _unpleasant_ memories, especially for her mother."

I supposed that it'd make sense for people at the Gallagher Academy, including this bubblegum-chewing guard, to feel uncomfortable when the subject of Cammie was mentioned in a conversation, but I was in desperate need of answers, and I was going to get them one way or another. Even if it meant that I'd have to fly across an entire ocean to gather some information, I'd uncover a way to track down Cammie. I wasn't about to fail this mission like the CIA agents that have tried before me.

"Wait," I said as I placed my CIA badge back into the front pocket of my jacket. A thought had suddenly dawned on me as I started, "Did you say that Cammie's _mom _is at the Gallagher Academy right now?"

I couldn't believe my luck. I was thinking about just chatting with one of Cammie's old teachers or a close friend of hers that might be able to help me, but if her mom was here right now, that'd be even better. She'd probably be able to assist me more than anyone else Cammie knew as a young girl. After all, she _had _raised Cammie since before she could walk.

The guard suppressed another wince that I noticed and answered, "Yeah, her mother's been the headmistress of the Gallagher Academy for several years now. How'd you not know that? Shouldn't it be in your mission file?" From the change in his tone of voice, I could tell that he was getting suspicious of my true intentions. I wanted to smack myself for not paying closer attention to the mission file when I read through it earlier in the CIA Director's office.

Instead, I put a smirk on my face and tried to pretend that I knew all about Cammie's mother, "Of course I knew that her mother was the headmistress of the Gallagher Academy since before Cammie got enrolled. I just didn't think that she'd still be working here after the… _incidents_ with her husband and only daughter."

Apparently, my excuse was believable enough because the next thing I knew, the guard was sighing reluctantly, leaving his post at the front gates, and offering to escort me inside the Gallagher mansion.

* * *

The Gallagher Academy was bigger than I remembered. It looked like the Gallagher Academy has been receiving renovations for a while now in an attempt to keep any other students from going outside its safe and secure confines, like Cammie did so many years ago.

From the looks of the building, I could tell that once upon a time, it was focused more on architecture and design than on technology and security. But then along came a girl that defied everyone by leaving after a single day of spy training. Who does that? Why would someone want to do that?

I knew that being accepted into the Gallagher Academy was no small feat. Only a few students at the beginning of every school year qualified to attend this prestigious school for spies, and Cammie was one of those few. So what would make her want to leave? What did she see or hear that caused her to run away without another thought?

This thought continuously rolled through my mind as the guard from the front gates walked with me to what I assumed was the headmistress's office, which didn't give me much time to think. I made a vow to myself that I'd figure out the reason Cammie left the Gallagher Academy later, when I wasn't being watched by tons of cameras in a spy training academy. If I knew her reason, then it'd probably be easier to accomplish my nearly impossible mission.

Before either of us even took a small step towards the headmistress's door to knock, we both heard a soft feminine voice say, "You both may come in."

Momentarily dazed by the woman's welcoming statement, I froze in my tracks and stared at the door. I couldn't believe it. Someone behind the door had anticipated my arrival before I had even made my presence known.

Of course, I knew that there were cameras clinging to almost every wall we'd passed by so far, but they weren't very well placed. I could easily point them out as we walked through the school, so I chose to hide behind my bubblegum-chewing escort and avoid all of the cameras' views. His bulk was used to my advantage as he led me closer and closer to Cammie's mom.

As far as I knew, I hadn't missed any hidden cameras so I was completely clueless as to how someone, other than my guide with an apparent love for bubblegum, knew that I was at the Gallagher Academy, much less behind the headmistress's office door. I was also careful to walk silently and match my guide's footsteps so that if I _had _accidentally made a sound, it'd be covered up by the sound of his large footsteps.

I'm usually the one that's ahead of the game, but now, the roles were apparently reversed, and that realization unnerved me. My usually strong ego deflated a little, but I wouldn't let that shine through. No one needed to know what lay beneath my cocky self.

With a determination that I just found out I had, I roughly pushed open the door to reveal a nearly vacant room that was barely distinguishable as an office, much less for a headmistress of a spy school. The only pieces of furniture in the entire room that made it clear that I was in an office were the crowded bookshelves lining the surrounding walls and the large and neatly kept desk with a woman sitting behind it, staring at the two of us with patience.

I stepped into the room without any signs of hesitation and strode right toward the woman behind the desk, holding out a hand and greeting, "Hello, you must be Headmistress Morgan. I've heard so much about you and your family."

She reached out and shook my hand firmly, as if she's shaken the hands of men millions of times before, and replied, "Please, just call me Rachel." I nodded in agreement as she continued, "I've heard a lot about you as well, Agent Zachary Goode."

Again, I was shocked that she knew that piece of information about me while I hardly knew a thing about her, but I kept up my expressionless mask so that she wouldn't be able to figure out what emotion was running through my head at the moment. From the faint smile that briefly flashed across her face though, I could tell that she already determined that emotion, despite my attempt at covering it up.

"You can just call me Zach, if you like," I told her politely. How people could talk like this all of the time, with good manners evident in their voices, was beyond me. At least I was willing to make an effort to be respectful this once. Not that I had much of a choice.

Because I wanted to receive some helpful advice from Rachel for my mission, I'd have to be intelligent about my actions and words. If I accidentally let a wrong word slip out of my mouth, I'd have to face the wrath of a widowing mother full of grief and sorrow from the tragedies of the family that abandoned her.

"Alright, Zach, why don't you have a seat?" Rachel motioned towards the empty chair in front of her organized desk, which I graciously accepted, before asking the guard that escorted me here to return to his designated post at the front of the school while we talked. Then he'd be allowed to come back to her office to guide me out of the Gallagher Academy.

With that request, the guard was out of the room in the blink of an eye, and Rachel and I were left alone in the suddenly quiet office.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I was the first to speak up, "So, Rachel, I understand that you're the mother of Cameron Morgan."

I thought it was best to simply cut to the chase. Wasting time was something that I preferred to avoid at all costs. In a short period of time, a lot of things could happen, even in just a day. Like when Cammie ran from the Gallagher Academy after her first day of attending school. That was a _huge_ event that probably took no more than a few hours of planning ahead.

Rachel winced slightly at hearing her only daughter's name, similar to the way the guard I just walked with had winced, and I suddenly noticed how exhausted and stressed she looked. Under both of her eyes, she had bags from lack of sleep, and thin wrinkles dotted her face, which must've once been undoubtedly beautiful. She could've been a mirror image of Cammie if not for the apparent difference in age. From her unnaturally thin frame, it seemed that she's also been having difficulty eating, like she hasn't had much of an appetite since her closest family members left her to care for herself.

"I'm sorry," I apologized to Rachel, feeling guilty for bringing up the topic of her missing daughter without a warning. "I didn't mean to‒"

"It's fine, Zach. Now, you were saying?" Rachel interrupted me. She was back to her original composure, but I'd already seen her let her protective walls fall so it didn't matter how she acted with me around now. I knew that it was all just that‒an act.

I nodded thankfully. "Well, since you're her mother," I made sure to not say her name out loud when I spoke this time, "I was hoping that you'd be able to tell me a little bit about her, like how she normally acts, what she's capable of, things that she's interested in‒that sort of thing. Just this morning, I‒"

"You were given a mission by the CIA to find her, but you have no idea where to start looking for her, which is why you came to me first," Rachel summed up without question. It was so strange because she basically stole the words right out of my mouth.

"That's exactly correct," I told her agreeably, keeping up my polite demeanor. It seemed to be working in my favor.

Rachel sighed tiredly and almost silently mumbled, "No surprises there." Being a trained spy, I heard her mumbled words crystal clear, but I wasn't quite sure what to make of them. Was she unsurprised because she knew that her daughter was going to be difficult to find, even with information about Cammie from her? Did she think it was unsurprising that another CIA agent was given the mission of searching for her, even after several failed attempts by other CIA agents to find her in the past?

"Alright, I'll just tell you what I told every other CIA agent that was given this same mission before you," Rachel finally decided. "Because she doesn't want to be found, there's a very high chance that you won't be able to find her, no matter how hard you try. She may be lacking proper spy training, but I have no doubt in my mind that she is clever enough to stay hidden from professional spies that _have _had proper spy training, and for as long as she wishes to. She likes being around crowds of people that she can easily blend into, especially in big cities. Disappearing from sight seems to be her biggest strength, but remaining loyal to the people she cares about will probably become her biggest weakness. Selflessness is her most noticeable quality, but it could also turn into a weakness of hers. She thinks lowly of herself, especially when concerning her outward appearance, but is capable of seeing the good in everyone."

Then she paused, lost in thought for a moment. She was probably wondering if she left any other facts about Cammie out.

Unconsciously, I leaned forward in my seat, towards Rachel's desk, as she was speaking to me, anxious to absorb as much information about Cammie as I could in the short amount of time that I had. It was strange how wrapped up I was in learning about a girl that I didn't know even existed until a few hours ago.

"There's one more thing that you might want to know," Rachel finally continued. I leaned in even closer, if that was possible, to hear what she had to say to me. It sounded important, though I'm sure that I'd never have been able to guess what it was.

"I have reason to believe," she said slowly, almost unwillingly, "That she's also being hunted down by the Circle of Cavan right this very moment."

* * *

**I can't believe that this is happening to me, guys. I just got over 250 views in only 2 days! That's not normal, is it? **

**Anyways, some of my recent reviewers have told me that they want Zach and Cammie to get together already. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you guys, but you're going to have to wait a little bit longer until they meet in person, which will probably take a few more chapters. Then, I'll start adding romance to the story, I promise! **

**Keep reviewing everyone! I love checking FanFiction and seeing new reviews, followers, and favorites for my story! It makes my day. Well, sometimes my night, but you know what I mean!**

**-Sky**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**CAMMIE, Age 22**

**1 hour after Cammie finds a note from Spencer at their dead letter drop in Good Hope…**

I've been dreading reading Spencer's message ever since I made it back to my apartment, which has never happened before. Usually, I can barely sit still when I have an unread note from Spencer. I didn't know why, but for some reason, I didn't want to look at it right away this time. Something in the back of my mind was telling me not to unfold it and see what it said, and I trusted my instincts.

But curiosity finally got the better of me, and I ended up nearly ripping the note in half in my haste to find out what Spencer had to tell me. Carefully, I smoothed the piece of paper out under my hands and peered at it closely.

The words were in a secret code, of course, so that only he and I could read them. Back when we were younger, we had invented our own original code so that we could communicate with each other without anyone else knowing. It was his idea, and I absolutely loved it, so we set to work almost right away.

A lot of our time was spent making this code, but it was totally worth it in the long run. Now, we used it almost all of the time, including in messages left in our various dead letter drops. Besides, it's not like we had anywhere else that we had to be at the time.

I missed the old days, when we were almost always together with the rest of our friends, gathering as much food as necessary and finding a suitable enough shelter to just barely survive each passing day. Things began to look up for all of us when Spencer, the oldest member of our group of friends, finally turned 16 and became old enough to get a job and drive a car without breaking the law, but even then, we always seemed to have a bit of trouble surrounding us that never seemed to go away.

"_To the Chameleon," _was how Spencer's messages to me always began. This one was no exception.

I silently translated the rest of the coded letters and numbers into actual words as my eyes scanned over the paper in my hand:

_They've sent another one after you. I don't know when they'll learn that it's pointless to keep trying. Meet me at Starbucks at 6:00 tonight, and I'll tell you more about it. _

_See you soon, the Wolf._

I smiled when I finished reading the note. Spencer was always looking out for me, even when he wasn't with me. He made sure not to use either of our names when he was writing, and his words were so casual that even if another person had somehow learned our code, they wouldn't have been able to detect the hidden meaning behind the note.

Basically, Spencer was trying to tell me that the CIA had sent another agent, most likely one of a high rank, on a mission to find me. But he thought that it was pointless to keep trying to find me because I was what he liked to call "the Chameleon," a spy that could naturally vanish from sight.

He wanted to meet me at Starbucks at 6:00 tonight to give me some background information about this agent so that I could be on the lookout for him or her. Since there was really only one acceptable Starbucks in Good Hope, which we both knew of, we would have to go there to talk about the agent. With that last sentence about our specially arranged meeting, he wrapped up the message with, "_See you soon, the Wolf_," since Spencer was seen as the unofficial alpha wolf of our pack of friends.

I couldn't wait to see Spencer again. The last time I saw him in person was almost 4 months ago, and it was only for a brief moment. We both had to separate too soon.

As I was preparing myself to meet Spencer later, a predicament that I hadn't realized earlier suddenly came to my mind. At 6:00 tonight, as I remembered, I was supposed to get picked up by Chase for our first date. I was supposed to maintain my cover as Melissa List, an honest girl that kept her promises and followed through with her plans.

Looks like I had a tough decision to make. Should I cancel my date with Chase and make up an excuse to explain why I can't go out with him tonight, or should I miss my meeting with Spencer to play my current cover?

I glanced up at the clock on the living room wall, even though I didn't need to see it to know what time it was. It was already 3:44 in the afternoon, which didn't give me much time to get ready for either my first date with Chase or my meeting with Spencer, or even to make up my mind about what I was going to do with my evening.

Keeping up my current cover or staying hidden from the CIA. How was I supposed to choose between the two?

I read over Spencer's urgent message again, torn between seeing Chase or seeing him tonight. Was this how all of those fictional girls stuck in the middle of love triangles felt when they finally had to choose between 2 attractive boys that they cared about? If so, it must have been _extremely _difficult to come to a decision. I knew it was for me.

I thought of the last time I saw Spencer, with a few strands of his naturally dirty blonde hair hanging over his warm brown eyes that had stared right at me with obvious concern. He knew me too well. I remembered his broad supportive shoulders that I had nearly fallen asleep on when the sun began to set over the horizon, and how the night before, I couldn't sleep well because of the awful nightmares that took over my dreams.

But then he was there, at my side, and I almost instantly felt better, knowing that he was watching out for me and that if he could, he'd chase all of my nightmares away until they were just distant memories meant to be forgotten.

We had been dining in a small Italian café in Atrani after not seeing each other for about 7 months. Spencer had asked me to meet him one afternoon at this certain café that offered some of the most delicious food in the area, and of course I agreed to it. I wasn't even that far from Atrani, the smallest town in southern Italy with a population of less than a thousand, when I received his written request in one of our dead letter drops. It seemed like the two of us had dead letter drops placed everywhere, but they sure were useful.

Reluctantly, I made a decision. There really was no need for me to ponder over my plans for the night because there was only one true option‒I had to see Spencer again.

* * *

"Wait, what happened? Why can't you go out tonight?" Chase questioned me over the phone after I called him at his apartment to tell him that we'd have to postpone our first date until another day. It didn't matter to me if we had our date tomorrow, the day after that, or next week. As long as it wasn't tonight, I wouldn't miss that date for the world. I had to play my cover for as long as I possibly could, and dating Chase would certainly make my cover more believable.

I sighed into the phone and lied smoothly, "Some of my relatives are coming for a visit tonight, including my parents, and they just notified me a few minutes ago that they were on their way over from the other side of the country. I can't just tell them that I'm busy tonight and that I won't be able to spend time with them."

To make myself feel less guilty about lying directly to Chase, I told myself over and over again that what I said was partly true. In a way, Spencer was like family to me. He acted like the overprotective big brother that I never had, and there's no way I'd miss a chance to spend time with him, even if it was only for a little while.

Chase persisted, unwilling to give up a date with me later tonight, "Well, maybe you could introduce me to your family tonight when they drop by and then‒"

"No!" I yelled through the phone, sounding panicked, much to my alarm. I shouldn't have screamed that loud. My cover could've been blown if Chase suspected that I'd been lying to him ever since the beginning of our phone call so I quickly tried to correct myself, "I mean, no, that's not necessary. My family won't be staying for long. They're just worried about me, and they wanted to check on me to see how I've been living without them. By early tomorrow morning, they should be gone."

I rushed my sentences a little near the end, and I prayed that Chase wouldn't notice my hurry to get words out.

There was a moment of silence over the phone, and I wondered if he had unintentionally hung up on me, wondering what thoughts were rotating through my mind after he did. Then, to my relief, I heard Chase take a small intake of air, which proved that he, in fact, _hadn't _ended the call, before saying disappointedly, "Alright, I guess I'll just see you at Book-A-Roo tomorrow morning, and then we can plan our first date together. Have fun with your family."

I smiled and thanked him before hanging up, comforted by the thought that he understood that I couldn't go out with him that night and that he wasn't extremely angry or upset by my unexpected cancellation. I wasn't really surprised though. Chase didn't have much of a temper, and extreme emotions and mood swings weren't a part of his usual behavior.

I had to admit, I was a little shocked that he believed my lies so easily. He must have put a lot of his trust in me.

Guilt began to gnaw at my insides. I didn't deserve a friend like Chase. He was so caring and trusting toward people, and I was constantly lying, sometimes even to people that I cared about. I guess some of my lies could've been justified by reasons, but no matter how many good reasons a liar like me may have for lying, it still didn't feel _right _to lie. How could Chase stand to be around a person like me?

I pushed my guilt to the side for the rest of the night, refusing to let it bother me any longer, as I tried to look on the bright side. I was about to see Spencer soon. I willed myself to feel excited, to be enthusiastic about getting an opportunity to meet up with Spencer after a long time of not speaking to him in person, but I had no such luck. Faking excitement was easier said than done, especially after purposefully hurting someone that didn't deserve to feel pain.

Quietly, I flitted around my bedroom, grabbed the first outfit from my closet that touched my fingers, and slipped each piece of clothing on, saving my worn out shoes for last. With Spencer, I didn't bother trying to look attractive. He'd already seen me in much worse conditions before in the past, some of which included conditions that nearly resulted in my death, so I saw no point in even attempting to sport good looks that I didn't possess.

I hurried from the apartment building as soon as I decided that I looked decent enough and climbed into my white car, the wind blowing my light brown hair out of place. I only had a few more minutes before I had to meet Spencer, and Starbucks was almost all the way on the other side of town. It's time to use my emergency engine again.

I pushed down on the gas pedal to accelerate a little faster and then hit the lever that activated my emergency engine, nearly sending myself flying off the driver's seat and out through the open window. I'd never gone so fast with my specially installed engine before in my life, but I managed to stay strapped to my seat for a couple more minutes until I arrived at Starbucks. I definitely planned on pushing the speed limit of my emergency engine again sometime soon.

I knew it was illegal to drive at such a fast and reckless speed, but I loved the exhilaration it brought me. I loved how the wind would whip through my hair, causing it to stick out in all directions, and how the surrounding sounds turned into background noise as my foot pushed down harder on the gas pedal. As an added bonus, police sirens never trailed me as I drove far passed what was acceptable by the law.

Spencer thought that I was an insane driver with enough luck on my side to avoid crashing into objects on the side of the road, and he never allowed me to drive any kind of vehicle that he was riding in because he claimed that he valued his life too much. I countered him with an argument about how spies never got lucky, so why would I be any different?

When I found an empty parking spot in front of Starbucks, I quickly pulled into it so that no one else could claim it as theirs. Thanks to Renee's amazingly designed emergency engine for me, I was 6 minutes early, a lot earlier than I'd initially expected. Spencer might not have even arrived at Starbucks yet.

I scanned over the crowded parking lot for any signs of Spencer's presence. Then out of nowhere, a hand was draped over my eyes, blocking my entire view of the parking lot. Without thinking or hesitating for a second, I did what any spy would've done in a situation like this. I grabbed the owner of the offending hand by their arm, shifted my weight, and used the force of their momentum to knock them to the ground.

I was proud of myself. I bet that my attacker never even saw that coming. That is, until I realized that most civilians in Good Hope _probably _wouldn't have been able to do a spy trick like that.

I quickly glanced around the parking lot, seeking out shocked or scared expressions plastered on anyone's face. But there were none. Not a single bystander outside of Starbucks witnessed my quick method of self-defense, much to my relief.

Then I looked down at my offender for the first time and realized who it was.

It was Spencer, lying on the ground by my feet after just having the wind knocked out of him.

"Spencer! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to do that. It's just that when your hand covered my eyes, I‒"

"Don't remind me," Spencer groaned, interrupting my apology and slowly standing up to his full height. He towered over me even more than Chase did. It was so unfair. Even after just being flipped to the ground, he still looked like he could take on an entire army of trained agents threatening to take over the world.

"So, Melissa," he started casually after dusting himself off, as if he wasn't just a target of my impatience. "Want to go inside now?"

Strangely, I wasn't surprised that he knew my cover's name. Spencer had his own ways of gathering that kind of information.

I nodded and let him lead me inside Starbucks and toward a secluded booth near the back corner. He held the door open for me like a gentleman and gestured with his hands for me to choose a seat first. I smiled and quickly sat down in the nearest open seat before asking him in the same casual tone he used, "Are you going to tell me now?"

I didn't want to admit it, but I was dying to know about my newest opponent, about who I'd have to hide from next until he or she gave up and stopped trying to find me. It happened every time the CIA sent an agent after me. One minute, there's an agent nearing my location, on the verge of finding me. The next minute, they're gone without a trace. I'm not sure where they go, but none of them have found me yet so I'm not going to complain.

Spencer smiled knowingly and answered, "First, I want to watch your face when you see who I brought along."

I turned around briefly and gasped, thinking about how I thought I'd never see who Spencer was with ever again.

* * *

**Hello FanFiction readers! I've brought you another chapter, and now I want to bring you a special opportunity to name a character in my story because I reached over 1,100 views after 4 chapters! **

**To get to name a character in my story, you have to send in a review with a guess about how old you guys think I am, based on what I've written so far, along with a full name for a character. Each reviewer is allowed one guess. All reviewers that guess correctly will win so it's not just going to be one guesser! Make sure to separate the age and the full name for a character with a dash as well! It's easier for me to read through the reviews that way.**

Example: 100-Ally Carter

**Just so you guys know, I'm not 100 years old! That was just an example to show you what I want the guesses to look like. If it's not in the right format, I'll still read it so don't worry about that too much! Go ahead and start guessing!**

**Also, I want to say to the Guest (that forgot their password) that that's basically why I didn't have them meet right after the story began! I didn't want my story to be so predictable so I'm creating my own unique story plot. Who knows what I've got up my sleeves? **

**-Sky**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**ZACH, Age 22**

**5 seconds after Rachel tells Zach about a terrorist group that is hunting down Cammie…**

"That's impossible!" I exclaimed loudly, abruptly standing up from my seat. I knew that it was probably rude to raise my voice so loud, especially in the headmistress's office, but I stopped caring about manners as soon as Rachel told me her suspicion about the Circle of Cavan's current target. "The Circle of Cavan was eliminated _years_ ago, when I was a senior at the Blackthorne Institute! How could they be hunting her?"

I refused to believe that the Circle of Cavan still existed, that the organization that my deranged mother worked for was still around. There was no way that it could be true.

I remembered being warned about how the Circle of Cavan was beginning to grow more powerful and dangerous. I remembered hearing the news about how the Circle's most notorious leader, Samuel Winters, was captured by CIA agents that were on the mission to destroy the organization.

I remembered watching a live video feed of the leader's execution in my dorm that one of my best friends and roommates, Jonas, managed to obtain through a series of complicated hacking routines. I remembered listening to the CIA Director declare that the Circle of Cavan was completely wiped out at the end of that live video feed and that it'd take a miracle for the Circle to reform.

But Rachel seemed to think differently when she answered, "The Circle of Cavan was never destroyed after Samuel Winters, formerly known as ambassador of Rome, was executed. All of the Circle agents only scattered, many of them losing contact with one another, because they were afraid of being caught working for the Circle like their leader was. But they have more leaders, and Samuel Winters was easily replaced. He was only discovered by CIA agents because he was the most public Circle leader."

Eventually, I sat back down and swallowed nervously, not expecting to hear any of what Rachel was telling me about the organization that should have been obliterated years ago. "Who did they replace him with?" I asked a bit shakily.

Rachel studied me for a moment, as if she was considering how much information she could trust me with, before continuing, "I think you already know the answer to that."

I didn't want to admit it out loud, but I realized that I _did_ know who they would've replaced Samuel Winters with. It made sense in my mind, and I had almost no doubt at all when I said, "My mother."

I practically spat the word "mother" out of my mouth. I hated it when that word was used to describe her, to show that I had a family connection to her. I hated it when CIA agents looked at my face and recognized me as my mother's son instead of as my own independent person.

I never wanted to be a part of the Circle like my mother did, yet a lot of CIA agents acted as if I had the plague when they were near me and as if they didn't want to get caught hanging around me for fear of catching the same disease. If I could, I'd sever the relation I had with her permanently so that no one could call me her son any more.

Rachel nodded sadly, her eyes still not leaving my face as she spoke, "Yes, Catherine Goode was the agent that replaced him because his son, Preston Winters, wasn't ready to take on the responsibility yet."

I was relieved when she purposely avoided calling her my mother, unlike many other CIA agents before. "In addition to that, he didn't know anything about the Circle of Cavan, much less that his father worked for it. He was as clueless as a civilian," she explained.

Wrapping my mind around all of the information Rachel was giving me was nearly impossible for me. I had learned in less than half an hour that not only was the Circle of Cavan still in existence, despite the fact that CIA agents were sent _years_ before to destroy it, but my mother was now _leading _it. She now had the power to give orders to other Circle agents to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it done. That fact, more than anything else I heard today, terrified me, and not many things can terrify me. Not to be arrogant or anything.

"How do you know all of this?" I questioned her, hoping profusely that everything she'd told me so far could be a _huge_ misunderstanding, though I didn't think so. Rachel sounded confident when she spoke, as if she knew for a fact that all of this was really happening right now.

In the same confident manner as earlier, Rachel elaborated, "Before Samuel Winters was executed and his son was released, they were interrogated to help us determine how big of a threat the Circle really was. Both of them were injected with a very strong truth serum right before beginning the interrogation, which they wouldn't have been able to resist. Preston Winters knew absolutely nothing about his father's role in the Circle. He mentioned how he sometimes saw his father leave on unexpected business trips without giving explanations, but he was never told the reasons. Samuel Winters, however, wasn't _nearly_ as innocent as his son was."

I waited a couple of seconds for her to go on. When she didn't continue, I spoke up, "What about his father? What did he say during the interrogation?"

Rachel sighed heavily, seeming unwilling to continue, but finally assumed, "I doubt that you want to know all that he said so I'll just tell you the gist of it."

I nodded solemnly as I waited for her to explain further, trying to let her take all of the time that she needed. Reluctantly, she took a deep breath and went on, "Samuel Winters told us that there were other Circle leaders, but he didn't know any of their names or exactly how many there were. He also called this group of Circle leaders the Inner Circle and said that they had an ulterior plan, though he didn't know much about it. He only knew a small part of the plan, but the fraction that he knew was almost useless to us. All we were able to conclude was that we had to stop the Inner Circle before they could‒"

"This sounds really intriguing and all, but I don't see how any of this ties into your suspicion about the Circle hunting her," I interrupted, not being able to help it. Patience wasn't exactly a character trait that I owned, though I was trying my best to _act _like it was. I always wanted to get straight to the point of a matter, and all of this conversation about the Inner Circle's super top-secret plan wasn't interesting me as much as it probably should have.

"I was getting to that part," Rachel said, a hint of irritation laced into her voice. This was just great. I'd managed to annoy one of the few people in the entire _world_ that could help me find Cammie.

"Samuel Winters told us that only about 4 people in the world knew all of the members of the Inner Circle by name: Gillian Gallagher, Ioseph Cavan, Matthew Morgan, and Cameron Morgan," she finished without wincing _once _when Cammie's name was spoken, though I could tell that she wanted to. If she weren't the headmistress of the Gallagher Academy, I'd urge her to become a professional actress.

To say that I was shocked to hear that Matthew Morgan and his daughter, Cameron Morgan, were one of the few people that could list all of the Inner Circle members would be an understatement. Of course, I knew that Gillian Gallagher and Ioseph Cavan, who have rivaled each other for years, could name all of the Inner Circle members, but Cammie? I wouldn't have guessed that in a million years.

It was all starting to make sense now. "So is that why you think that the Circle is hunting her right now?" I asked her, feeling like I finally understood what Rachel has been trying to convince me of.

She shook her head. "No, I don't _think _that the Circle is hunting her. I _know_," Rachel answered with so much conviction that I wanted to believe her right away, but I couldn't. Not until I could wrap my mind around everything.

I silently pondered all of the facts that I was given. Never did I hear Rachel provide concrete evidence that proved that the Circle was currently targeting Cammie. But then again, it made sense that the Circle wouldn't give up their reign of terror because of _one _girl that knew something that she shouldn't, that was standing in between them and victory. That could save the world from… whatever the Inner Circle was planning.

It also explained why the CIA Director didn't proclaim her as MIA, even though it's been 10 long years since anyone has seen her.

"Let me get this straight," I finally responded, still feeling a little confused. "The Circle of Cavan, which shouldn't exist right now because of the mission that some CIA agents were given to get rid of it for good, still somehow exists. One of the Circle's leaders, who played a part in the Inner Circle's secret plan, was captured and executed by the CIA during the mission. Because of his execution, the CIA Director just assumed that the Circle would… fail to continue."

I took a deep breath, nearly finished with my summary. "But then the Circle agents decided to rejoin forces after being separated for a long time, and now the Inner Circle has an unknown scheme to more than likely bring the world to its knees. The only _living _person that might be able to help stop the Inner Circle is on the run and off the grid, and no one has any idea where she is or where she's been for the past 10 years or so. In addition to all of that, the CIA is depending on me, of all CIA agents, to find her before the Circle does, which CIA agents in the past have failed to do, and prevent what would otherwise be known as impending doom."

I leaned back in my seat as far as the chair would allow, suffering a little exhaustion from giving such a long review of the information concerning the Circle that I'd learned during that day. I hoped I'd nailed all of the topics that I'd need to know for this mission to be a success.

Rachel gave me a small smile and said, "You certainly have a talent for summarizing a load of information thrown at you all at once."

I smirked at her, returning to my usually cocky self and forgetting about manners for a moment, "That is one of my many gifts that the ladies just _love._"

Just like that, Rachel's smile disappeared from her face. It was so sudden that I almost thought that I had imagined it. Then she shot me a menacing glare that I wanted to cringe away from, but I stood my ground. "If you _think_ for a second that hitting on me is a good idea," Rachel hissed under her breath, "You're going to regret that thought _very_ much."

My eyes widened at her false accusation, and I quickly stuttered a response, "That's not what‒I never meant to‒it's just that‒I wasn't trying to hit on you!" My answer came out louder than I'd intended, but it was true.

Her eyes glared daggers at me for another moment longer before softening a little, as if she was absolutely certain that I wasn't lying to her. The hardness behind her eyes didn't completely go away, but it was better than the look she gave me earlier.

"If you say so, Zach," Rachel sighed. "You can leave now. There's not much else that I can tell you about her." She sounded very disappointed, either with herself for not knowing her own daughter as well as she'd like or with her daughter for not being there with her after her husband passed away. I wasn't sure.

I nodded and thanked Rachel for everything that she'd told me. She just waved me off and wished me the best of luck on my mission. Even though spies aren't supposed to believe in luck, I knew that I'd need all of the luck I could get.

* * *

I walked slowly away from the headmistress's office, my feet dragging heavily behind me as I trudged down the nearly vacant hall. I didn't even bother trying to hide from the many cameras around the mansion. They already knew that I was here, so what was the point?

Even though I only talked with Rachel for 27 minutes and 42 seconds, almost half an hour, it felt like a century had passed since I received news of the Circle of Cavan's resurrection.

On my way out of the Gallagher Academy to meet the bubblegum-loving guard at the front gates, a petite lady with light blonde hair ran quickly passed me and nearly tripped over her short high heels. She cried, "Oopsy daisy!"

But before she could fall and hit the floor, I stretched my arms out and caught her easily. I wasn't about to watch her get injured, even though I didn't even know her name.

She blushed, a bright shade of red coloring her cheeks, and shyly mumbled in her soft Southern voice, "Thank you." Then, as if realizing something, she straightened up and put a little more space between the two of us.

From the way she acted, I could tell that she was a naturally clumsy person that often tripped over her feet and other various objects. I could also tell that she wasn't used to having handsome men catch her in their arms before she could topple to the ground.

I smirked charmingly at her. "You're very welcome, miss…" I trailed off for a moment, waiting for her to fill in the blank with her name.

Without missing a beat, she quickly said in the same soft Southern voice, "Sutton. Liz Sutton." She sounded strangely anxious, as if she was in a hurry to get somewhere and I was momentarily standing in her way. I guess I couldn't really blame her. I had places that I needed to be at, too, though I wasn't exactly sure where those places were, and this young lady clearly knew where she had to be at.

Still, I was curious as to why she was in such a hurry and, even though it was probably none of my business, I casually said, "It's nice to meet you, Liz. I'm Zach Goode." I offered her my hand, which Liz graciously shook. Then I continued in the same casual tone, "So, is there somewhere that you need to be? You seem to be in a rush."

Liz laughed a little, though it sounded forced, before answering, "Is it obvious?" In response, I just nodded. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Zach. It's just that I recently received some news that the headmistress of the Gallagher Academy might want to know about."

* * *

**Hi guys! Did you miss me? I know that I haven't posted any new chapters since last Saturday, a week ago, but I'm here now! I would've posted sooner, but I was being hard on myself. I kept rewriting this chapter because it just didn't flow very well. I'm really proud of myself for writing all of this. This was the hardest chapter to write so far, but I did it! I really hope that you guys enjoy it.**

**The character name contest from the last chapter is still continuing so if you're interested, be sure to look back and submit a guess! I'm really interested to hear how old you guys think I am! The same rules still apply.**

**Also, a lot of reviewers were wondering last chapter who was with Spencer and Cammie at the coffee shop. Let me just say right now that you guys won't guess right. You're welcome to try, but it'll be hard. Please keep the reviews coming! I love looking through them!**

**-Sky**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**CAMMIE as MELISSA, Age 22**

**2 minutes after Spencer brings Cammie to a corner booth in the back of Starbucks…**

"No way," I whispered under my breath, my gaze unwavering. I blinked over and over again to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating, that my eyes weren't deceiving me. When nothing in front of me changed, except for the puzzled expressions appearing on almost all of my friends' faces, I grinned, showing off a smile that was bigger than any other smile I'd given since we all separated. "I can't believe it! You guys are really here! In Good Hope, of all places!"

I ran toward the nearest friend with us, completely forgetting about my agreement with Spencer to discuss the latest CIA agent that should be searching for me, and hugged the person, which turned out to be Adrian Einsworth, to me. Adrian had definitely grown taller since we'd been separated and was almost as tall as Spencer now. His mop of light blonde hair had grown a little longer, but other than that, he looked the same. He probably still had the same carefree and reckless attitude, too.

Adrian had a comical look of shock on his face, his widened green eyes adding to the effect, while the rest of our friends laughed at the two of us, but then he chuckled, whispered in my ear, "It's good to see you too, Mel," and hugged me back. Spencer must've told everyone else what my cover's name was the first chance he got.

Eventually, I pulled away from Adrian and turned to embrace another one of my friends, Renee Park. Thanks to her incredible talent with technology, Renee could create and repair all kinds of technological inventions that spies could only dream of, unless they've seen or heard about what she's capable of, like constructing my car's one-of-a-kind emergency engine that could reach unimaginable speeds.

Renee still had long black hair that fell in waves down her back and pretty blue eyes that I envied. Her height hasn't really changed either since I last saw her, but it was obvious that I was starting to catch up to her. Shyness was still an obvious quality that she held, which I could easily tell from the awkward way she hugged me, but she didn't ask me to stop. She just gradually wrapped her arms around me and said, "Yeah, I can't believe that you're here either."

I smiled at Renee before moving on to hug the last friend with us, who has been waiting so patiently for his turn, Zachariah Einsworth. Zachariah, or Zach for short, is Adrian's older and more mature twin brother. He had a knack for spouting quotes and facts from random sources that fit the situations we had all managed to get ourselves into over the past few years. I wasn't sure how he found the time to read and memorize so many quotes and facts, but he absorbed information like it was a necessity for survival, like he depended on it to breathe.

Zach looked almost identical to his twin brother, except he had shorter hair and a pair of black glasses positioned on his nose, which wasn't there the last time I saw him, but I wasn't really surprised by his new need for glasses. Reading at every possible opportunity must do that to a person.

Besides the difference in hair length, Zach and Adrian looked almost exactly alike. But don't be fooled by their similar appearances. While they may look the same, they have completely different personalities.

I used to get Zach and Adrian mixed up all of the time when we were younger, but after I got to know them a lot better, my tendency to confuse them with each other slowly dissolved. It became very obvious which twin brother was which after I could tell the difference between how they acted.

Zach was a little reluctant to hug me back. That much was clear. But after a moment of hesitation, he draped his arms around me and pulled me a little closer to him before quoting, "'Where I live if someone gives you a hug it's from the heart.'"

I considered this quote for a second, not exactly sure of its origin, but went ahead and guessed anyway, "Robert Frost?"

He shook his head. "Not even close," he said. "It was Steve Irwin."

There you have it. That just showed how much I know about literature. I sighed. "I'll get one right eventually," I told him, even though I didn't believe my own words.

Zach grinned at me and gently pulled away. "If you say so," he replied, acting as if he had faith in me that I _would _somehow guess correctly one of these days, which I doubted. Then he paused, lost in thought, and quoted, "'Always do your best. What you plant now, you will harvest later.'"

Without even bothering to guess this time, I gave up and told him that he might as well just tell me since I probably wouldn't have guessed right if I'd tried.

In case it's a little unclear, this was like an ongoing guessing game that we constantly played. Zach always won, but I still played with him anyway, despite the pointlessness involved in our guessing game.

He shook his head again, as if he had expected me to know better. "Wasn't it obvious? It was Og Mandino."

I stared at him blankly, not really comprehending what he just said. "Who would name their child Og?" I finally wondered aloud, and the rest of our friends, who I had temporarily forgotten about, laughed and inserted their sounds of agreement with me.

"Technically," Zach began enthusiastically. "Og was just a nickname. His _given _name was, in actual fact, Augustine, but almost everyone that knew him called him Og because that was the name that he favored. Also, he was named after his paternal grandfather by‒"

"Okay, I think we get it," his brother spoke up. If Adrian hadn't interrupted him, I was certain that Zach would've continued for _at least _another 10 minutes about how Og Mandino received his name, and that wasn't exactly something that I wanted to stay and listen for. "Now, I believe that we all have some serious catching up to do, am I right?"

I nodded profusely along with the rest of our friends, relieved to have an excuse to put a brief pause on our game for the time being. Zach and I would continue it again sometime soon. We always did.

* * *

"Then the big one threatened to _arrest _me for trespassing on the prime minister's private property. Can you believe the guy?" Adrian cried, and we all erupted into laughter, shaking our heads at the ridiculousness of the threat. Adrian would probably be halfway across the block before a professional security guard could try and arrest him for whatever crime he'd committed. He was _super_ fast on his feet.

I almost forgot how much I always loved hearing about Adrian's latest adventures as he told us about the time he planned to break into the prime minister of England's home, a tale that I hadn't heard about until then. On the other hand, accompanying him on an adventure was a lot more fun than just listening to one.

Zach and Adrian had one common personality trait that I knew of, which was that they both knew how to lighten the mood when the situation called for it. They just had different methods of doing that. Zach could hand out motivational quotes from a bunch of different sources that kept a person going, but Adrian could tell thrilling accounts of adventures that made a person laugh and possibly wish that they could try that out, too.

While Adrian had dragged Zach along on all kinds of adventures, probably against his will, Renee had designed some new gadgets that weren't quite ready to use yet. Right now, they were in the prototype stage of development and needed to be tested before the final version could be made. Spencer offered to help test these new inventions out for her, like he usually did when Renee had a new and untested invention, because the rest of us were too afraid to go anywhere _near_ Renee's work.

The last time I agreed to help her with her newest design for a gadget she'd made, my hair caught on fire. Not like a small fire that you see on birthday candles, but like a large accidental fire from a cooking experience gone very wrong. My hair, or what was left of it, smelled like smoke for almost a month.

Even though her creations may not have always turned out like expected, Renee's still a genius in her own right. She just becomes highly accident prone once she gets in her "thinking zone," as my friends and I liked to call it. Most of these accidents resulted in a fire or a power outage of some kind, but we've all gotten so used to them over the past few years that it doesn't even faze us anymore when we see something in Renee's hands suddenly explode.

Renee eagerly accepted Spencer's offer to lend her a hand and almost immediately went into a detailed description of how each of her latest devices were supposed to function if the tests ran smoothly, which almost never happened. But I wasn't really paying attention to what Renee was saying because from our table in the back corner of Starbucks, I could just barely make out a dark shadow peering through the front window by the entrance. When the shadow's eyes landed on me, they rapidly pulled away from the window and hurried away into the night faster than I could blink.

I wasn't sure if my imagination was playing tricks on me or if a dark shadow had really been right outside Starbucks, watching what we did without us knowing. No one else in my group of friends seemed to notice it, but I was almost certain that I saw _someone_ out there spying on us. I just couldn't tell who it was.

After a minute of thinking to myself, I passed the suspicion off as a case of paranoia, doubting my own spy instincts that demanded that I take action. It turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

I resumed the conversation that my friends and I were having with more enthusiasm this time, trying hard to forget about the dark figure. My friends must've detected a sudden increase in my interest in the conversation, but they didn't comment on it like I thought they might.

At one point during our conversation, Spencer started tapping on the table anxiously. It was starting to get on my nerves, and I was about to tell him to stop what he was doing, but then he glanced in my direction. Once we made eye contact, I suddenly realized why he was tapping. He was trying to communicate with us by Morse code.

Looks of realization appeared on all of my friends' faces as they all eventually began to comprehend the message Spencer was secretly relaying to us. That was another cool thing about my friends. They understood Morse code as well as I did.

At first, we were all planning on creating our own secret language so that we could talk freely to each other without the threat of nosy eavesdroppers around, but that turned out to be a lot easier said than done. All of us constantly argued over how to make our secret language until Renee finally had enough of our fighting and suggested that we just learn Morse code. It worked surprisingly well since hardly anyone recognized Morse code when they heard it.

Spencer kept tapping the same message over and over again like a chant. "Watch out for the shadow. Watch out for the shadow. Watch out for the shadow," he was tapping. After figuring out what he was saying in Morse code, I realized that I hadn't been imagining the shadow from outside. It had actually been there, only a few feet away from where my friends and I sat, minding our own business.

Despite Spencer's warning, we didn't end our conversation. It'd be too obvious if we all of a sudden stopped talking after discovering that someone was watching us from the safety of the shadows. We couldn't get up from our seats and leave the shop either. We didn't know anything about what awaited us beyond the cozy coffee shop that we've stayed at for far too long.

As a safety precaution, we had a rule to always make sure to change our location at least every 2 hours so that we didn't remain at one place for an overly long time. Sometimes we'd break that rule unintentionally, like we were now, but once it was done, it couldn't be undone. Now, we had to deal with the consequences of our carelessness.

I knew that I should've said something about the mysterious shadow as soon as I caught sight of it. Then maybe we could've avoided what came next. Maybe we could've made a run for our lives before they found us.

While we were chatting aimlessly inside Starbucks, trying to act as normal as possible, the dark figure was rounding up a group of attackers of both genders not too far from the coffee shop, preparing them for a quick capture and escape. They had an assortment of dangerous weapons concealed in their clothing that we didn't know of, intentions that we could only imagine.

So when a fairly large group of people dressed in black burst through the windows and doors of Starbucks, throwing shattered glass all over the room and flipping tables and chairs in their haste to reach us, we were far too unprepared. But that didn't stop us from fighting back like our lives depended on our ability to defend ourselves, which they did. That didn't stop us from drawing our own concealed weapons and attacking them as well as we could.

I pulled out a dozen daggers from a hidden pocket inside my jacket, the same ones I'd taken from the Gallagher Academy so many years ago, and lashed out at any attacker that came anywhere near me and the rest of my friends.

Instead of going for the kill like I probably should've, I aimed for spots that caused serious pain if stabbed through with a sharp dagger, like arms and legs, so that the cuts I made wouldn't cause certain death for my victims. They'd just be too badly hurt to keep fighting with us. My friends aimed for the same places as I did, not wanting to have the appearance of a murderer either.

It was total chaos everywhere we looked. Most of the civilians fled the scene as soon as the people in black showed up to crash the party, but some of them were too slow and now laid in a bloody heap on the ground, more than likely dead or severely injured thanks to the attackers. I cringed away from the sight of their crumpled bodies and focused on finding a way out of this life-threatening situation.

There were too many of them, I realized, and they just kept coming, multiplying in number. Soon, we were completely surrounded. We had nowhere to run because we were all backed up in the corner with no way of escaping, except through the air vent directly above us. The only problem was if we could somehow get it open before we were completely overwhelmed by the oncoming attackers.

* * *

**Hello guys! The character name contest is officially over now. The winners were Allyssa, who chose the name Zach, and mt026, who chose the name Adrian Einsworth! They were the only 2 reviewers to guess correctly. **

**I was really surprised by the guesses I received. Some reviewers thought that I was 16 or 18 years old, but really, I'm just 14! So congratulations to the people that guessed right, and thank you to everyone that participated! I might decide later on that I want to use the character names suggested by the people that didn't win, but I promise to give that person full credit if I do!**

**In the reviews, please tell me what you think of the original characters! I want to know if they should be changed a little in later chapters or if they're alright the way they are. Also, please tell me if you think I'm rushing too much toward the action. I don't want to bore you guys, but I don't want to scare you away either.**

**-Sky**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**ZACH, Age 22**

**49 seconds after Liz proclaims that she received important news that might concern Rachel…**

"Didn't I just see you 3 minutes and 32 seconds ago, Zach?" Rachel asked, looking up from her large desk as Liz and I anxiously entered the headmistress's office together. Liz hadn't told me about the news update she was given yet, probably because she wasn't sure if she could trust me. Fortunately for me, she agreed to let me come with her to see Rachel, and she said that if Rachel was alright with me listening to their conversation, Liz wouldn't object.

"Yes, you did actually," I answered calmly, turning on my charm in hopes of being granted permission to participate in the obviously crucial conversation with Liz and Rachel. I wondered if it was working. "But then I ran into Liz here‒or, more accurately, _she _ran into _me_‒and I found out that there was some news that she needed to give you."

Liz blushed at the mention of our unexpected meeting in the hall, but I kept speaking, "I'm not sure what the news is about yet, but I was hoping that it might concern what we were discussing earlier, and‒"

"You'll gladly take any leads you can find," Rachel spoke up, stopping me midsentence. Liz's brow furrowed in confusion at the mention of leads, but she remained silent, not wanting to interrupt our exchange with her curiosity. From the concentrated look in her eyes, I assumed that she probably got curious often.

"Well, I was going to ask you if I could listen to the news Liz needs to tell you," I replied with a smirk. "But what you said works, too."

Rachel turned to Liz, who was shyly standing near one of the walls, to ask her, "What kind of news were you planning on telling me?" It was clear in Rachel's eyes that she might decide to kick me out of her office if she didn't want me to know about whatever Liz came to the Gallagher Academy to tell her.

"Well, do you remember the conversation that we had over the phone this morning?" Liz asked quietly in a very small voice that I knew could reach higher volumes. I wondered what caused her to sound so distant all of a sudden.

Realization seemed to dawn on Rachel's face as she remembered whatever Liz was referring to. "Is that the news that you wished to discuss with me?" Rachel questioned Liz, who gave her a diminutive nod in response.

Then Rachel turned to where I was standing and said, "You can stay if you like, Zach," before swerving back toward Liz to say, "Liz, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear about the news you brought now, and I'm sure Zach wants to hear it more than I do."

I nodded my head coolly to indicate that what Rachel said was most likely true. I _did_ want to hear about the news that Liz brought to the Gallagher Academy, preferably as soon as possible so that I could get going on my mission, but I wasn't sure if I was more impatient to find out her news than Rachel was.

I was wasting a lot of valuable time in Rachel's office, time that I didn't have much of. The end of many people's lives could be approaching right that very second, and I had no clue how to stop it from coming.

What I really wanted to do in that moment was jump up and down in anticipation for Liz to finally say whatever she had to say. It better be good news. I don't think I could handle hearing anymore bad news after finding out about my mother's promotion in the Circle. I still considered shuddering at the thought.

Liz nodded timidly. Here came the news. "Well, I received a special message last night that explained the newest update of the Gallagher Academy's advanced security system, which was released this morning, before I called you. If it's acceptable to you, Rachel, I'll need at least a couple of hours to properly install the updated version of the system. The system update should take about 8 to 12 hours, but I could probably shorten the time by‒"

"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupted, raising both of my hands to cut Liz off while my mind processed her words. "The news that you wanted to tell Rachel was about a _system update_ for the Gallagher Academy?"

Liz stared at me oddly as she answered, "Yes, it was. As a service to the Gallagher Academy, I vowed to enhance the school's security system to the best of my abilities. You won't see another security system exactly like the Gallagher Academy's anywhere else in the world. A security component that I created personally for the Gallagher Academy was a microscopic security camera, which is almost entirely invisible to the human eye, along with highly accurate identity locators that provide a comprehensive amount of information on any found identity caught on the cameras' constant live video feed."

I suddenly understood how Rachel knew to expect my arrival at her office, despite all of my attempts at staying unseen. There were probably thousands of Liz's microscopic security cameras spread all over the school, all with the ability to learn any person's identity once they're caught on camera. This girl was a complete _genius_. Jonas would get along so well with her.

"I'm still working on many other security components to add to the system, of course," Liz added thoughtfully. "But some of the ones that I've developed have experienced some minor… issues when being tested. I guess it's a good thing that I don't work on the mission of improving the Gallagher Academy's security system alone."

At the last part, Liz let out a giggle that sounded somewhat strained. Then she sighed tiredly and turned distant-looking again. I wondered if she was actually tired from working to enhance the Gallagher Academy's already advanced security system, a nearly impossible task at this point, or from something else.

I doubted that it was from working. All that she probably did in a day was brainstorm new ideas for a more impressive security system for the school behind a big desk in an office, with other technicians in offices close to hers. That kind of work was hardly exhausting in my opinion. Fighting enemy agents in the field or going undercover on special missions are much more grueling, not to mention interesting, missions for spies.

"I just didn't want another repeat of… what happened 10 years ago. No one deserves to go through a situation like that ever again," she said, fatigue from an unknown cause slowly catching up to her.

My eyes suddenly snapped up, and I gaped at her. "Did you know Cammie at the Gallagher Academy?" I asked Liz.

Liz winced when I said Cammie's name and glanced away from me, not daring to meet my dark eyes. Cammie's unexpected disappearance must have had a larger impact on the people that cared about her, including Liz, than I initially thought.

I took her hesitation as a yes and pressed on, "Can you tell me what you know about her? Whatever information you can give me would really help me save the planet from almost inevitable destruction." I said the last part so casually that it almost sounded like a joke, but the people in the room with me knew that no one would joke about something as serious as world destruction, especially a trained spy. Not even _I_ would do something like that.

Confused, Liz glanced over at Rachel, who was still sitting behind her desk, for an explanation, but Rachel just subtly nodded, encouraging her to answer my question. Then Liz studied me intently with her bright blue eyes for a minute, as if I was some kind of specimen in an experiment that she was conducting. I could practically see the gears turning in her mind as she considered my question. Finally, she spoke up, "I think I know someone that can give you more information about her than I can."

* * *

"Who are we meeting again?" I questioned Liz as we stepped into a sleek black limousine in the center of the bustling city of London. I've been asking her since we left the Gallagher Academy, more than 6 hours ago, about the person with knowledge about Cammie that she was taking me to. She hasn't given me a clear answer yet, but I wasn't about to give up. I knew that she'd have to tell me eventually.

"You'll find out soon," Liz promised me with an innocent smile. She said almost the same exact words the last time I asked her and all of the other times I asked her before that. I haven't been able to convince her to give me even _one_ clue about the mystery person, let alone a first name. I didn't even know where they were supposed to meet us at because Liz kept making us change our flights over the past few hours to avoid any possible tails after us. She was being _way_ too cautious, but I'd rather her be extremely careful than extremely careless so I didn't complain about it.

I secretly hoped that London was our final destination. I didn't want to have to go through anymore airport security checks, but chances were that we were about to head over to another airport equipped with all kinds of security measures that I needed to get around. For that reason, I wasn't too thrilled about the whole experience.

It wasn't because Liz was terrible company on all of the flights we've been on so far that I felt unexcited about stopping by another airport. On the contrary, Liz was great company. She was kind and considerate towards me and didn't make too large of an effort to start a conversation. She let me think in peace during all of our flights, and it felt good to relax and reflect on the progress of my new mission. Not that I've made much progress at this point.

Having to hide my secret stash of weapons from all of the airport security enforcers was actually where the problem was. I had to go through immense lengths just to get all of my belongings, most of which were guns and knives, safely passed the security without being detected or suspected. It was extremely inconvenient, but I was up for the challenge.

When the limousine Liz and I were riding in came to an abrupt halt, I was surprised to see that we weren't by the entrance of an airport in London. We were parked outside a diner with the smell of fish and chips, as the British like to say instead of fries, wafting passed the open restaurant door. My stomach grumbled softly, but it was just loud enough for Liz to take notice. She turned to me with an amused smile on her face and said, "C'mon, Zach. Let's go eat now."

No one needed to tell me that twice. I bolted out of the parked limousine with a sudden burst of energy‒from where, I had no idea, and I didn't care enough to find out at the moment. I just hurriedly thanked the driver for giving us a ride and rushed right into the diner with Liz struggling behind to keep up with me.

My dark eyes quickly scanned over the room, trying to pick out any possible threats that needed to be removed immediately, before Liz and I did anything else. Liz trudged in after me and yanked on my arm surprisingly hard for someone so thin. I muttered, "Ow!" to her under my breath, barely audible to our own ears, because it _hurt_. Then she rolled her eyes at me and pointed to a wide booth on the far side of the diner, away from the majority of the restaurant inhabitants, where a young woman that looked about Liz's age was sitting alone, staring straight at us.

"There's the person that I was telling you about," Liz whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "Bex Baxter."

* * *

**Hey there everyone that's still reading this story! Thanks so much for being patient and putting up with my weird updating schedule! I'm sorry about the shortened chapter this time. Usually, my chapters are a little longer than this, but I wanted to end this one where I did to leave you guys hooked. Is it working?**

**Keep on reading everyone! I'm thrilled to see that this story now has over 2,770 total views, even though I only started this about a month ago. I'm thinking about starting a new story based off of Twilight, with Jacob and an original character of my creation. Would any of you guys be interested in reading a story like that? Please tell me your opinion on this story and my new story idea in a review!**

**Lollypops101, you asked about Bex in an older review and so I hope that you're as excited as I am about bringing Bex back into this story! Also, I agree with your idea for future chapters, cheeky-monkey-hehehe. Two Zachs in the same story would probably be very confusing. I'll see what I can do about that!**

**-Sky**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**CAMMIE, Age 22**

**4 seconds after Cammie notices a possible escape route from Starbucks through an air vent…**

As tactfully as I could with various injuries all over my body, I motioned to the overhead air vent, hoping that my friends would see the silent signal that I was trying to convey to them. Once each of my friends saw me, they almost immediately caught on, and a fierce determination lit up all of their eyes. I knew that none of us were about to go down without a fight.

None of the contiguous attackers reacted to the careful motion I'd made behind my back. That meant that they either didn't notice it, which would be a careless mistake, or they _did _notice it, yet they still chose to stand idly by and glance at us and our surroundings, which would be a very stupid thing to do. Possibly fatal, depending on how successful our escape turned out.

The air vent above our heads would be barely wide enough for us to fit through. Renee and I would have almost no problem crawling inside of it because of our slim figures.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same about Spencer and Adrian. They both had a lot of bulk to their forms, Spencer more so than Adrian, because of the impressive muscles they'd developed through years of training. Making it through the air vent would be a challenge for them, but I believed that they'd be able to do it. They _had_ to.

Zach was a little iffy. He wasn't as big as Spencer and Adrian, but he was certainly bigger than us girls. Even though it looked like he had a comparatively narrow frame, he still possessed muscles that might give him a hard time. Still, we didn't have many options.

After thoroughly thinking through our only way out, I realized that the attackers had stopped advancing on us once we were cornered. Even _less_ hope of escape enveloped us.

The attackers were now just standing in a large semicircle around us, their eyes never leaving our determined faces. My fingers wrapped around the daggers in my palm more tightly than before, ready for the fight to resume.

But it didn't. Not right away. Instead, a bulky man near the front, who must've been the one in charge, ordered in a low gruff voice, "Surrender your weapons now, and maybe we'll spare you and your friends later, Cameron Morgan."

I stared at him with wide eyes, not blinking. Disbelief was written all over my face. I'm sure my friends were just as stunned as I was.

When Gruff Man was finished with his demand and decided not to add, "I'm just kidding," or something along those lines, I began to laugh. It was a strange thought, finding something amusing while in an ocean of danger. There was nothing remotely funny about the overall _situation_, but Gruff Man's expectation for us to just give up all of the weapons we had, and after hearing a _threat_ from him to hurt us further, was strangely hilarious to me.

Gruff Man, whose feelings I'd probably just hurt, glared coldly at me. My friends gawked at me with obvious concern in their eyes, probably wondering if I'd gone crazy during the time that we'd been apart. Even Spencer was gaping at me like I was a mad person, and he knew me almost as well as I knew myself. I _wasn't_ crazy.

After I calmed down enough to speak, I firmly said, "First of all, you'll only get my weapons over my dead body, and I won't make that easy for you. Neither will my friends." They all nodded in agreement.

"Second of all, I've never met anyone named Cameron Morgan in my entire life," I went on, acting as clueless as possible to protect myself. "Whoever that guy is, he's not with us and never has been, as far as I know." All true so far. The confused girl act that I was aiming for sounded more believable than I'd expected.

"That's right!" Adrian piped in, pumping one of his fists in the air without releasing any of his weapons. "Why should we listen to you? You're just a bunch of brainless goons. It's not like you could actually _beat_ us if it came down to a fight."

At that statement, I mentally face palmed. Shock and frustration were running through my mind almost as fast as the wave of adrenaline pounding and keeping my senses on high alert, prepared for action.

Adrian wasn't usually arrogant, but when in the face of danger, especially the _life-threatening_ kind of danger, he seemed to feel that he could handle anything standing in his way. No matter how massive or deadly the situation was. I had a feeling that his sudden confidence was surely going to get us all killed, and before I even discovered the reason behind my dad's death‒a personal mission that I'd vowed to accomplish a long time ago.

Gruff Man turned his hard eyes on Adrian and snarled, "You won't be saying that once I order all of my accomplices here to pick up where they left off with you and your friends." My hand twitched slightly at his threat, and I resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground and strangle him right then and there. But I was sure that Adrian would rather do the honors if he got the chance to.

Adrian's green eyes, looking darker and harsher than I'd ever seen them, bore into Gruff Man's almost black eyes, refusing to back down from the threat directed mostly at him. Fortunately for us, he knew better than to open his mouth this time.

When he didn't say anything else, I had to hold back a shudder as a twisted grin spread across Gruff Man's face, his evil mind slowly anticipating his next few words, "Now that that's settled, I'm going to cut to the chase."

"Please, go on," I mumbled under my breath, too quiet for Gruff Man to hear from where he stood.

"For one thing," he began, probably after waking up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. "I know exactly who you all are. There's no denying it."

Gruff Man paused. "I also know why you were all here today, at this specific time and place. But most importantly, I know that you there." He pointed straight at me as he continued curtly, "Go by the name Cameron Morgan. Now, I don't want to have to use force, but if you refuse to cooperate, my accomplices will have to take care of you."

"You're insane," I spoke up, defending my true identity. So far, only Adrian and I have had the guts to talk back to Gruff Man. "My name's Melissa List, not Cameron Morgan, and I work as a bookstore keeper on the other side of the city. There's no reason why you'd want me to _cooperate_ with you."

A humorless laugh left Gruff Man's lips. "Yeah, and my name's James Bond. Maybe you've heard of me before. I've come here to save you and your friends from danger," he sneered sarcastically.

That's when Adrian snapped, apparently not taking the sarcastic commentary very well. He sprinted right passed me, leaped skyward, and punched open the overhead air vent before sliding in. He didn't look back once. Having super speed probably came in handy on more than one occasion for Adrian.

Then Renee, as graceful as ever, jumped off of an adjacent table to give her the boost she needed to bounce up after him. Moving swiftly, she soon disappeared from sight.

I hurried to follow them next, but I was abruptly stopped by Gruff Man's many accomplices, who'd taken too long to react to Adrian's hasty getaway, and then Renee's, but were now being ordered by a frantic Gruff Man to capture the rest of us before we could escape as well. Particularly me, though I still wasn't sure why.

We were more outnumbered than we were in the beginning. With Adrian and Renee scuttling toward safety, expecting us to be right on their heels, only Spencer, Zach, and I were left to fight off the remaining attackers. The odds weren't in our favor.

I wanted to be angry at Adrian and Renee for ditching us in a time of crisis like that without even glancing back to see if we were behind them or not. But I couldn't because, deep down, I felt that I would've done the same thing if the roles were reversed.

Personally, I would've just assumed that the rest of the gang would be able fend for themselves without me right next to them, providing assistance wherever I could. I wasn't exactly the best fighter in the group, but I wasn't the worst either. Putting me somewhere else probably wouldn't have made much of a difference, unless the others were looking for an escape route. Then I was the best one for the job.

The number of daggers that I had left was slowly dwindling. Many of them were getting dropped on the ground, which was littered with dark red blood, but there wasn't anything that I could do about that. Using the daggers that I still grasped, I swiped and stabbed everywhere, trying to clear a path to the air vent.

After kicking the last person that was blocking my way, I was finally close enough to reach the air vent. Before I could make the jump, I heard Gruff Man yell over the chaos, "Stop or your friend dies!"

* * *

Everyone in the room froze, including me. I quickly spun around to see Spencer at knifepoint, struggling relentlessly in Gruff Man's iron grasp. Spencer, one of the best spies I've ever met, was caught. I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. I thought that my eyesight must've been tricking me. It took seven blinks for me to fully wrap my mind around the new predicament.

Then I stared in horror at the sharp knife pressed to Spencer's neck, a thin trail of blood already beginning to trickle down. Zach, a little off to my left, had an identical look of shock on his face. With a single flick of his wrist, Gruff Man could end Spencer's life in an instant. I couldn't let that happen. No matter the risks.

I glared at Gruff Man, who looked to be almost twice Spencer's size and about a head taller, and hissed, "Let him go."

Grinning menacingly with Spencer, who had quit struggling, trapped in his embrace, Gruff Man practically growled, "Not unless you agree to do what you're told, _Cameron_." With his gruff voice, he made my name sound like an insult.

Zach turned to me, awaiting my answer. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to say. If I agreed to the terms, there was no telling for certain if Spencer would be released from Gruff Man's grip. But if I refused, Spencer would _definitely_ be killed, and then there'd be one less fighter in the room that was on our side.

Seeing the conflicting feelings displayed on my face, which I could never seem to hide from him no matter how hard I tried, Spencer shook his head at me, probably thinking that it wasn't worth the risk. I could still save myself if I chose to. I was _so close _to freedom, close enough to smell it in the air. Zach's face, on the other hand, had paled considerably and was cleared of emotion. I couldn't tell what was on his mind, which bothered me more than it should have.

Spencer's fate was almost entirely dependent on my next reaction. I knew that much for a fact. Talk about no pressure.

Planning this next move was beyond hard for me to do. Putting this plan into action was even harder, but I managed to do it. I couldn't let Spencer down. He's always had my back when I needed him, and it was about time that I returned the favor.

"Alright, tough guy," I told Gruff Man sternly, my eyes fluttering to Spencer for a second. He wasn't going to like my plan, but I was running low on options. "I'll agree to go with you if you let the rest of my friends leave now. When they're a safe distance away from here, that's when I'll follow you."

Gruff Man scoffed, "_I'm_ the one in control right now. You will do what _I_ say, or else your friend here will die." He motioned to Spencer without loosening his grip, as if I couldn't already tell that he was being held against his will as we spoke.

I shrugged and placed a dagger right over my heart, the sharp point digging slightly into my chest. Everyone's eyes widened at the sight, especially Gruff Man's. Some even gasped. Clearly, no one was expecting that kind of move from me. I wasn't the suicidal type, but I'd do what I must to save my friends. "No, you're not. You need me alive. I need my friends safe. Now, if you want me to _stay_ alive, you'd better do what I say, or I _will_ plunge this knife through my heart faster than you could stop me."

I smiled at the expression on Gruff Man's face, a mixture of shock and anger, despite the fact that I was no more than an inch away from causing my death. All I had to do was raise one of my hands up a little to steal the upper hand from Gruff Man. It was almost too easy.

Gruff Man gulped, his dark eyes never leaving the weapon over my heart. He knew that I was right. He couldn't return to his leader, whoever that was, without me alive. I used that bit of knowledge to my advantage.

"What about your friends?" he finally managed to get out. "What's to stop us from killing them once you're dead?"

I'd already thought of a response for those questions ahead of time. "It doesn't matter," I replied, keeping the knife steady as I talked. "Because I know that you won't let me die if you can help it. Not on your watch."

I still didn't understand why Gruff Man needed me alive so badly, but that fact was the only thing that I grasped for leverage. Without it, I'd probably be dead by now, along with Spencer and Zach, and maybe even Adrian and Renee.

Sighing in defeat, Gruff Man dropped Spencer to the floor without warning, his neck continuously dripping blood. I feared that if the rapid line of blood didn't stop or slow down, Spencer might pass out. Like I was about to let that happen.

"Help him stand," I ordered Gruff Man, a little irritated that he'd just released Spencer like he was only a sack of potatoes. Hesitating for only 4 seconds, Gruff Man bent down and reached for Spencer, being much gentler this time, so that I wouldn't suddenly decide to kill myself. Then Gruff Man gradually guided Spencer to his feet. When Spencer stumbled, he caught and steadied him easily.

Spencer was a little disoriented from slight blood loss, but at least he was alive. That's all that I could've hoped for.

I nodded at Gruff Man once Spencer was back on his feet. I found it amusing how, only minutes ago, he'd almost killed Spencer, and now he was helping him stay on his feet. It seemed like Gruff Man had morphed into a new man with actual morals.

"Now," I said before I could accidentally let out a laugh. "I want Spencer and Zach to stand next to me so everyone else better make a path for them."

Opening his mouth, Gruff Man was about to protest, but I cut him off before he could, "I'm only going to check for serious injuries. Nothing you need to worry about, I promise."

Gruff Man accepted my short explanation without any complaints, much to my surprise. I almost snorted at his stupidity. He should know how to tell if someone was actually planning on keeping their promise.

Slowly, Gruff Man and his accomplices made room for Spencer and Zach to walk toward me. They were staring at me oddly, trying to figure out what I was _really_ doing. They knew for a fact that I wasn't calling them over just to check their injuries. There was more to my plan than that.

Spencer and Zach eventually stopped in front of me, waiting for me to let them know what to do next. Carefully, I assessed all of their cuts and bruises. They weren't as badly injured as I'd thought.

When I finished my close examination, with the knife still pointed at my heart, I said to them, "Spencer, climb through the air vent. Then Zach will follow you."

For a moment, nothing happened. I waited patiently for Spencer to get inside the air vent with Zach right behind him. But that didn't happen. Instead, Spencer stood his ground and spoke up for the first time in a while, only giving one word for an answer, "No."

* * *

**Hiya everyone! I'm so sorry about not updating in over a week, but I've been pretty busy. I had Spring Break so I hadn't gotten the chance to write this chapter. It's a little longer than the last one and has tons of action so I hope you like it!**

**Crazy-for-Goode, I totally agree with you. I want Zach to find Cammie, too. That moment is coming in future chapters so don't worry! I'm sorry, aglenn97, but you're a little too late. Fortunately for you, I might decide later in the story that I want to create more original characters and use a reviewer's name choice, but the reviewer will receive credit if I do! HollyMcJolly, you don't need to worry about me abandoning this story. I loved writing the beginning so far, and I intend to get to the end. **

**Please keep up the reviews! Reading the reviews I receive really helps me to improve my story and stay motivated as I continue to write. Thanks again!**

**-Sky**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**ZACH, Age 22**

**28 minutes after Zach and Liz find Bex at a small London diner that smells of fish and chips…**

"So, is that _everything_ you know about her?" I asked Bex for the fourth time since arriving at the small diner in London. Of course, we all had ordered our own platter of fish and chips, one of England's many specialties where food was concerned. Fish and chips were basically all we could smell inside, and they had an absolutely mouthwatering aroma. In addition to the delicious smell, as one of the few appealing options found on the menu, fish and chips made my order a quick and easy decision. The same was for Bex and Liz.

Bex sighed after swallowing another one of her chips. "Yes, Zach. That's everything. There's nothing else about her that I could possibly tell you."

She paused, lost in thought. "If there was, I would. Trust me, I would," Bex answered sadly, her British accent thickening slightly with emotions that she was trying desperately to hold back. Besides having a unique British accent, Bex had long dark hair, eyes that shone like caramel, and brown skin, giving her an exotic kind of beauty. It wasn't anything at all like Liz's soft beauty that modestly touched the surface. If I didn't have a mission and another girl on my mind, I might've been attracted to Bex.

"It's my fault," Bex forced herself to admit after a moment of silence with me considering everything that she and Liz have told me. Their information on Cammie was similar to Rachel's, only much shorter and less detailed. In other words, I didn't learn very much from them.

On the bright side, I did find out that Cammie was acquainted with my ex-girlfriend, Tina, at the Gallagher Academy. If I got desperate‒and I'd have to be _extremely_ desperate to do this‒I could talk to Tina about her. Hopefully, that won't be necessary.

Liz and I looked toward Bex at the same time, who was staring down at her hands. She wouldn't meet our eyes as she spoke, "I should've known that something was wrong when we got back after our run-in with Tina—if you can even call it that. I should've known that she'd try something like this."

She took a shaky breath and finally met our gazes. "Instead, I let her down. I gave up on finding her and turned that task over to the adults because, after hours of searching, I couldn't find her. Liz and I probably looked in every room in the entire school before reporting the breach, but we never saw her."

Rolling her eyes, Bex attempted a joke, "It's not like there were tunnels around the school that she could've left in so we knew that she couldn't have gotten far."

A humorless laugh escaped Bex's lips. "But she did. She walked right out of the Gallagher Academy without setting off the security system or leaving the smallest trace behind. Sure, we found clothes, snacks, money, and other stuff gone from her part of the room when we woke up, but that didn't really help."

Liz chimed in, "That wasn't all that we found. We also found that note taped to her bedpost, remember? It said something about how she went to "find answers." I'd thought that she'd visited the school library to do some research. That's what I would've done if I were looking for answers. But she wasn't there when I checked."

"So then where could she have gone?" I asked, puzzled by Cammie's unknown motive to leave the Gallagher Academy to "find answers" on her own.

Bex looked me in the eye. "Don't you think that if we knew that answer, we would've already found her?"

I shook my head. "Your friend is smart, one of the best pavement artists that I've ever heard of in my entire life. If she thought that you guys knew where she was for a _second_, she'd disappear before you could reach her. You wouldn't have been able to catch her, even if you knew where to look."

"Then how do you intend to find her if she keeps switching locations?" Liz mumbled, sorrow seeming to overwhelm her small frame.

I smirked, but it felt strained. Clearly, it was _not_ the time for my arrogance to come out. "I was getting to that. But first," I replied, turning grave. "Did anything… serious suddenly occur around the time that she left? Like, something completely unexpected that might cause her to take off without telling anyone ahead of time?"

Bex and Liz were silent, thinking deeply about my question. I waited patiently for their answers as thoughts were turned over in their heads, like stones are often turned over to cast a ray of sunlight down on the soil under it.

When my patience began running dangerously thin, Liz's face lit up, and she grinned, a small amount of hope renewed in her blue eyes. An epiphany was just on the tip of her tongue. "Of course! How have I never realized the connection before? It's so obvious, now that I think about it!" she exclaimed excitedly without revealing her realization.

Bex gestured to herself and then to me as she spoke, "Care to enlighten us?" I nodded in agreement with Bex's comment.

Liz grinned at us before launching into a brief story related to Matthew Morgan's death, which was proclaimed shortly before Cammie's successful attempt at running away from the Gallagher Academy and suspected to be caused by the Circle of Cavan. Apparently, Cammie didn't take the news very well. Liz, a naturally light sleeper, said that she was calling for her dad in her sleep, probably remembering moments in her life when they were together, safe in each other's presence. Liz kept worrying that she might break down in the middle of the night, but when her talking gradually settled, Liz finally drifted off to sleep.

Much sooner than Liz, Bex was able to fall asleep, stepping into her usual routine of deep sleeping with ease, but not before hearing Cammie unconsciously speaking of her dad. It concerned her, but she didn't bother trying to comfort her at that time. She thought that she'd get the chance to reassure her in the morning, but when she and Liz woke up, she wasn't in her bed. Not getting up to comfort Cammie in the middle of the night was one of Bex's biggest regrets.

When Bex and Liz finished describing their versions of the night before Cammie left, I smirked at them, a plan slowly forming in my head. It wasn't the best plan that I've ever thought of, but it was a start. Definitely better than what I had an hour ago.

Bex and Liz stared at me oddly, then glanced at each other, and then turned back to face me again. Confusion was evident on their faces. I let the suspense drag on a little longer as the pieces of the plan in my mind began to fall in place. After a minute, Bex eventually broke the silence, "What are you smirking about?"

That only caused the smirk that I was sporting to grow wider. "I'll smirk for all sorts of reasons. Most of the time, I'll smirk when I'm cracking jokes, flirting, or feeling cockier than usual, but sometimes I'll smirk when‒"

"Let me rephrase that," Bex cut in as I was giving her some of my reasons for smirking. I probably could've gone on for the rest of the day and not have finished. "What are you smirking about _right now_?"

"Oh, that's easy," I told Bex. "I've got a plan to track down Cammie, but I'll need you and Liz's help. I can't do this alone."

"I'll do anything to find Cammie," Liz hurriedly agreed. "Even though I didn't know her very well, I still feel like I owe her. Plus, there's nowhere else that I need to be. Updates to the Gallagher Academy's security aren't expected until at least 6 months from now, and I'm not about to go on a mission."

I nodded and turned to Bex. "Count me in, too," Bex decided. "I know that I'm going to sound like a traitor to the country that I grew up in, but I'm getting sick of walking by the same London sights every day. I haven't been on a mission in a while, and I _need_ to escape. Return to the action of the spy world. Just… give me an excuse to get moving again, and I'll take it."

I sighed in relief. Their agreement to help with my mission was going to increase the likelihood of me finding Cammie by _a lot_. Searching for her alone was already difficult enough. Now that I had 2 other partners with me, I might actually stand a chance.

But I still didn't think that it'd be enough to have just a team of 3. I felt that I needed more help than that if I wanted to ensure my success. At least 2 others on our side were probably best. Good thing that I knew just the right 2 people for the job.

Another smirk appeared on my face as I stood up from my seat and said, "Then let's get going. We've got a missing girl to track down, and we aren't going to find her by sitting here and exchanging stories."

* * *

"What is this place?" Liz questioned curiously as we stepped inside one of Joe Solomon's many safe houses. I had to blindfold Bex and Liz earlier, much to their indignant protests, so that they wouldn't know where this safe house was on the globe. I couldn't take any risks of this safe house being discovered.

I turned to Liz and answered, "This is one of my… friend's safe houses. We'll only be here for a little while." Could I even call Joe a friend? We haven't spoken to each other in years, mostly because I didn't know where he was half of the time. He could've been on the North Pole, playing with polar bears over the past few years, and I would never know it.

"Does your friend know that we're here right now?" Bex asked as she walked around and inspected the interior of the safe house with Liz at her side.

I pondered her question for a second before answering simply, "Probably not. But don't worry. We'll leave soon. We're just waiting for some people to get here."

"Waiting for some people?" Liz inquired, her curiosity level gradually rising as more questions popped into her genius brain. "What people are you talking about? Do we know them well? Can they be trusted? Why are they coming here? How do they know that we're here?"

I gripped Liz's thin shoulders gently but firmly, willing her with my dark eyes to calm down and stop asking so many questions. My head was beginning to spin. "Relax, Liz. They're just some friends that I asked to join our mission. Trust me, they're good guys."

"Wait a second. They're _guys_?" Bex spoke up from another part of the safe house. I didn't even see her leave the room. Now, I couldn't see her anywhere, but I could definitely hear her voice. "Are they‒"

"We're here!" I heard my friend, Grant, call loudly from the entrance to the safe house as he casually strolled in with my other friend, Jonas, right on his heels. Bex raced out of the room she was in, eager to meet the guys that I mentioned. When her eyes fell on Grant, she smiled and tossed her hair, completely ignoring the rest of us. Grant didn't seem to mind the attention she was giving him though. His eyes were glued to Bex.

"Let me introduce myself," Grant said, grinning goofily at Bex. I could've sworn that she almost swooned at the sight. "I'm Grant."

"Bex," she replied, crossing the small space between her and Grant to graciously shake his hand. Then, as an afterthought, she decided to add, "Actually, it's Rebecca, but if you call me that, I'll kill you in your sleep with nothing but a piece of uncooked pasta‒something that I'm _very_ capable of doing."

Grant shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. "I don't doubt that for a second. Remind me in the future not to get on your bad side."

"Oh, I don't think that I'll need to," Bex declared, her brown skin glowing as another smile appeared on her face. "You seem like a smart guy. You'll learn soon enough."

"Why, thank you for that vote of confidence," Grant said, laughing lightly. Something clicked in my brain, and I stared in shock at my friend, or who I _thought_ was my friend. The real Grant must've been abducted by aliens a while back and replaced with an exact clone of Grant because I remembered that, at the Blackthorne Institute, we were trained to show as little emotion as possible. Grant was one of the best in our class at hiding emotions, mostly because I couldn't hold back smirks and claim the title for myself. But now laughs came from the Grant look-alike so easily. It couldn't possibly be the same Grant.

But it sure did _look_ like Grant. He had the same short, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes from the last time that I saw him, always drawing much female attention wherever he went‒unless all those dazed women were just attracted to _my_ incredibly good looks. I wouldn't blame them if that were the case.

I recalled that some people would even go so far as to insist that Grant looks similar to the famous Brad Pitt, but I couldn't see the resemblance between the two. I doubted that Jonas could see it either.

Their brief exchange ended with Grant's thanks about receiving a vote of confidence from Bex, but I could already tell that they had taken an interest in each other. They would definitely have more exchanges later during the mission.

Jonas, on the other hand, wasn't as confident in himself as he took the smallest step toward where Liz and I stood, pulling nervously on the collar of his shirt as if it were an entirely new kind of torture.

But he, like Bex and Grant, paid no attention to me when his eyes landed on Liz. "Um… I'm Jonas," he said, shifting from foot to foot. His buzz cut from past years had disappeared and was replaced with a thick mop of black hair. It was a nice look for him. His dark eyes, darker than mine, remained the same, though now there seemed to be a new light in them.

I nudged Liz a little closer to Jonas, wanting them to hit it off as well as Bex and Grant did. They were obviously meant for each other.

I guessed that I accidentally pushed a little too hard because Liz suddenly exclaimed, "Humph!" You'd think that I'd just kicked the back of the chair she was sitting in from the cry that she let out.

"Alright," I reluctantly stepped in, clapping my hands together. I knew that they'd never get anywhere with each other unless someone was there to push them‒literally. "Jonas, this is Liz. Liz, you already know that this is Jonas." I gestured to them as I spoke their names.

Liz smiled shyly at Jonas, which he easily returned with one of his own, before complimenting him in her quiet Southern voice, "Nice glasses."

"Thanks," was his simple reply. He pushed his glasses up slightly as if he just remembered that they were there. Then he winked at her, so inconspicuously that I almost didn't notice it. "I've had these glasses for a while now."

"They suit you," Liz said, her small voice growing the tiniest bit louder as she gained more confidence. If I wasn't attuned to Liz's voice, I probably wouldn't have picked up the change in the way she spoke.

I wanted to roll my eyes at them, but I resisted. Talking about the _glasses_ that Jonas was wearing? Wasn't there _anything_ else that they could've discussed?

I stopped them before they could switch to talking about the shoes that Liz had on or the belt that Jonas had picked out. "Since we're all here, let's get down to business. Who's ready to break in to the Circle headquarters with me?"

Silence followed. Disbelief felt. Then all at once, 4 voices filled the room. All of them were saying things like, "Are you insane? We can't break into the Circle headquarters! That's pretty much impossible!" and "_That_ was your brilliant plan? Couldn't you think of anything else?" and "You called me while I'm chilling a continent away to take on this suicide mission? Seriously?" and "There has to be other options that don't require us to risk our lives. There just _has_ to be!"

I shook my head and waved my arms, trying to reclaim control of the situation. Things were already getting out of hand, and we haven't even gotten to the hard part yet. "Just hear me out, guys. I know that this isn't a great plan‒"

"We _know_ that," Grant interrupted, receiving a glare from me but choosing to ignore it. "In fact, I've heard better plans coming from a monkey. At least monkeys are smart enough to know when something is completely bananas."

"Ha ha," I responded to his awful monkey joke. "You're hilarious, Grant." He grinned at me after I made that comment, but didn't add anything else.

"I've got to agree with Grant," Bex said, nodding her head. "Except on the monkey account. I've actually met some crazy monkeys before on a mission in the Amazon. They weren't very happy to see me." Grant opened his mouth to ask her about the experience, but Bex cut in, "Don't ask. It's a long story."

"Guys, we're getting off task. We need to focus, or we won't get anywhere," I stated, shooting a glare at Grant, who played innocent. I knew better than anyone in the room that Grant was anything but innocent.

"Right, go on, Zach. We're listening, though I must admit that your plan sounds very… farfetched," Jonas replied, waiting for me to continue. At least I knew that _someone_ was willing to listen to what I had to say.

"Thanks, Jonas." I smirked at him and continued, hoping for no more interruptions until I was finished, "Okay, I've been given a mission to find a missing person. She was told that her father was supposedly killed by the Circle of Cavan right before she ran away and left nothing but a note that said that she went off to "find answers" by herself. My guess is that she wanted to learn more about the cause of her dad's death. Actually, no, Liz thought so, and I agreed with her." Liz waved off my acknowledgement of her idea as if it wasn't the only lead that I had.

When I thought that I was actually going to get through my explanation without being cut off by anyone, Liz had to speak up, "So you think that, if we hunt down the Circle, we'll hunt down… the missing person?" She still couldn't say Cammie's name, but she could definitely interpret what others were trying to say. She was _good_ at it, too.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," I told her, a smirk plastered on my face. "So who's with me?"

Despite the insanity of my plan, I saw 4 hands go up in the air at the same time, none of which were wavering for a second. So everyone was in. I thanked them all for their cooperation and told them the rest of the plan in greater detail. There was no going back after this. My smirked widened a fraction, and I hoped that my team understood what I was getting them into, because I wasn't going to quit until I died or found Cammie. Whichever comes first.

* * *

**How'd you guys like this extra long chapter? I made it longer than usual because I won't be able to update for at least a couple of weeks. I've got some big tests coming up that I've got to focus on. Wish me luck on those!**

**Crazy-for-Goode and Alice, I've got to agree with you two. Even though I technically created Spencer, he's causing problems that could get all of them killed in the end. He better not mess up Cammie's plan! Lollypops101, thank you so much for your continued support! I really appreciate it! NOOOOO, I'm sorry about the cliffhangers, but I've got to keep my readers hooked somehow!**

**The much anticipated moment when Zach and Cammie finally meet is coming! The more reviews I get, the sooner I'll make Zach find Cammie! So please keep reviewing! **

**-Sky**


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